let the shadows fall behind you
by Sesshomarusama3
Summary: The path towards the sun, towards freedom, is not an easy path. Ace, Sabo and Luffy, three brothers with dreams of seeking such freedom, know this better than anyone. Five years on, and it almost seems hopeless. But perhaps a few helping hands, and an old pirate's offer, can give them everything the world had tried so hard to take away. (WARNING FOR VIOLENCE, ABUSE AND LANGUAGE.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N...hello! Um. I can explain.**

 **Okay okay I'm sorry I haven't updated my other stories in SO LONG especially when i promised to do them! I just haven't had the inspriartion or proper motivation, and I have too many ideas in my head to kee at bay! So...here's another One Piece AU I guess XD**

 **Special thanks to CanIHaveAHug for helping me with this particular story! You're amazing hon! ALL OF YOU, go read their stories on AO3, they're flipping amazing!**

 **Without further ado, the first chapter of what SHOULD be a short but enjoyable story!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. PROPERTY OF EICHIRO ODA, THIS IS A FAN BASED WORK OF FICTION.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 _Turn your face towards the sun_

 _Let the shadows fall behind you_

 _Don't look back, just carry on_

 _And the shadows will never find you…_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Alarms are blaring, unrepentantly loud, ringing in his ears and rattling his brain, a throbbing ache behind silver eyes that won't go away. Voices, wailing, shouting and screaming, echo from above, behind and ahead, a cacophony of revolution too close for comfort. Ace ignores it all as best as he can, tightening his grip on the small hand clenching his fingers in a death-like clasp. Another pair of hands, slightly bigger, dig into the tatty fabric of his shirt, a slight tremble in them.

Keeping his head low, he leads them through the winding tunnels, plunging into the darkness. No need for torches or lamps. They've memorized every crack, every turn and bend. Fear and pulsing adrenaline make the trip that much quicker as they run, bare feet pounding against the cold, wet concrete.

Voices, this time angry and sharp, echo from behind them, louder than any other. Orange lights, dancing and bobbing in the darkness, swallow the darkness they left behind inch by inch. The guards are already on their way, rallying to contain the escapees. They're a ways off yet, but not for long. He'd be a fool to think they're even close to the edge of the woods because they're no longer behind bars or bound by chains.

He leads them to the right, a sharp turn that almost has them skidding into the wall. His back aches terribly, but he won't let the old pains hold him back, not now. They won't be impeded, not by the cold draft wafting through the tunnel nor by the ache in their bloodied feet. Fear is an incredible motivator. But it can also make one do stupid things, make hasty decisions. A part of Ace is suddenly terrified he's taken a wrong turn somewhere, leading them into a dead end, but he's quick to banish the idea.

If he ever lapsed for a moment, he has his brother at his back. Sabo would never lead them astray.

The small hand around his fingers squeezes twice, and Ace looks down at the shock of black hair and wide, baby browns peering up at him through untamed bangs. Luffy doesn't say a word, but he points ahead with his free hand, a question in his eyes. Ace offers him a smile that he hopes is comforting and nods.

 _Almost there. We're almost there._

Another shout, louder and closer than before. _"They went that way!"_ His younger charges whimper, clinging closer, holding tighter, fear claiming them in a way it never used to. Ace grits his teeth and runs faster, veering left. The guards are getting closer, having stronger, healthier bodies than their captives.

The alarms are still so _loud_. The angry disharmony of voices at their backs promise retribution, bloodshed. He doesn't care. They're so close, so _close_. Once they make it outside, they'll have cover. They'll have air, space, earth.

They'll have _freedom._

There! The gate, just up ahead, so close to the final hurdle. He can see the once lavish gardens through the bars, lit with flames and screaming and gunshots and sulfur. Seems the other slaves weren't satisfied with just escaping. They're going to burn this place to the ground, and they will; their numbers surpass the guards ten to one. Serves their _'masters'_ right, so desperate for slaves that they hadn't dreamed of such consequences.

The boys skid to a halt, narrowly avoiding slamming against the iron bars, breathing hard and fast. Ace looks to Sabo, and he dutifully brings out the set of keys he'd plucked from their guard's dead fingers. He plunges it into the lock with steady hands, twisting it. The gate gives with a groan of metal against stone, and as one they burst through the rusting metal barrier.

The feel of soft grass and mud on Ace's feet nearly brings tears to his eyes. _It's been so long._

But they don't stop. The riot has bought them time, a distraction, but only for so long. Now they have to make it across the garden, past the courtyard, through the main gates and into the city without being noticed.

They're _so close._

A stray guard, beaten and bloody from an encounter with one of the heavier set slaves, catches sight of them making a break for it, not joining in the escalating fight around them. Ace spots him too late, and in the blink of an eye the armored man is upon them, his spear raised to strike, a yell tearing from his throat. Ace can only skid in the mud, too slow to tug Luffy back –

The guard is fast, but Sabo is _faster_ , and grabs the sea stone spear by the rod between his teeth, inches from Luffy's head, wrenching it from the guard's grip, slack with surprise. The man goes sprawling to the grass, and shrieks in agony when his own weapon is plunged into the back of his leg by the enraged blond, pinning him to the grass. It's an ugly sight, watching the blood pool from the open wounds. Ace feels no sympathy, and Sabo's glare is vehement as he snarls at the guard through his teeth. Luffy, clutched close to Ace's chest, is unreadable.

They don't stick around to watch him squirm, grimly satisfying though it might be; they keep going, ignoring the screams, explosions and gunshots ringing in the night-time air, choking on the smoke and sulfur. They leap over shrubs, stumble across the cobblestone path turned hot from the heat of the flames licking and devouring the castle behind them. They don't look back, not once. There's nothing there at all for them to mourn.

 _So close so close almost there keep running keep going –_

The front gates are wide open, no doubt for the royals and their ilk to escape first – Ace doubts they have, or _if_ they have, only very few of them due to the fire, the riot, the bloodthirsty slaves demanding their comeuppance – and it feels too _easy_ , too good to be true after all these years. But it's as easy as breathing for them to run past the gates and into the streets of the town, where many citizens are flocking in worry, curiosity and fear to gaze upon the burning home of their king and queen. So enraptured they are by the sight that no one notices three boys, thin and ragged, barefooted and clothed in rags, fleeing from the scene, vanishing into the night.

Only when he's certain they're safe from imminent danger does Ace dare to stop at last, turning into a barren alleyway and pulling his brothers down behind a pile of empty barrels. They're wheezing for breath, boneless and dizzy, but the dirty concrete and the wall at their backs is blessedly cool against their flushed, feverish bodies.

Ace tilts his head back, bleary eyes gazing up at the open sky for the first time in years. He sees the stars through the smoke billowing from the castle, dancing in the midnight blue, the moon a blinding, beautiful white. A small, almost delirious chuckle escapes him, along with the barest of smiles, a _real_ one.

 _We're out. We're actually out. We made it. We're free._

(He ignores the sea stone bracelet encircling his ankle, and the one around Luffy's. They'll come off soon enough.)

A sniffle brings him back to the present, and he looks down to find Sabo hunched over, hands hiding his face as his shoulders tremble and shake. Luffy's hand rubbing circles on his back does nothing to soothe him, and his eyes are distraught and confused as they turn on Ace, desperate for a solution. Ace feels his heart break, and shuffles closer to his twin, brushing a hand through Sabo's mess of dirty blond curls.

"…Bo."

Sabo stiffens. Slowly, he uncurls from himself and lowers his hands. The scar over his discolored left eye seems to glow in the light of the moon, along with the tracks of tears streaming down his cheeks. Ace swallows thickly, for he knows these tears are not born from fear or sadness, not anymore, and never again for as long as he lives and breathes. He reaches out, cupping Sabo's cheek, wiping away the tears over his scar with a swipe of his thumb. He smiles, wobbly but sure as the sun rises and the chance they have to see it.

"It'll be alright now," he says, looking between Sabo and Luffy watching him with wide eyes. "We'll – we'll be alright now."

Sabo's breath hitches once, reaching up to grasp the hand on his cheek. He sniffs, and then his own smile claims his lips as he nods. "…r-right," he says, sitting up straight, lacing his fingers with Ace's free hand. "Right."

Ace's smile pushes the edges of a grin hard enough to make his face hurt. There's another wet sniffle, and they both turn to Luffy. Normally the sight of tears on their youngests' face would be a cause for alarm, or in other cases, retribution. But the boy is smiling fit to burst even as the salty drops cascade down his hallowed cheeks, the softest giggle escaping his cracked lips. He scrubs his dirty face with the backs of his hands, meeting their gazes.

'Are we really free, Ace?' he signs, signing for the letter 'A' and poking his damp cheeks for Ace's freckles.

Ace snickers softly. He's always liked the way Luffy describes them. He releases Sabo's cheek to card his hand through Luffy's hair. "Almost, Lu," he says, lowering his hand to brush his thumb across the six-year-old scar underneath his left eye, the boy leaning into his touch automatically. "Almost."

Escaping the castle isn't enough. They have to get off the island. Whether or not the king and queen and their unsightly progeny have survived the flames, or the riot, remains to be seen, but if they're spotted by the guards or any marines near the scene of the crime, they might be suspected and taken into custody. Or worse…

They need to find a boat, or a ship they can sneak aboard until the next island. Until they can find their way back home, or make a new one of their own somewhere else. But first, they need to find the harbor. Sitting in a dank alley won't help, so Ace stands, taking Luffy's hand and Sabo's, hauling them to their feet. They'll need to lay low as possible, with no cloaks or any sort of disguise or cover…but if they can escape a castle with barely a scratch, surely they can reach the harbor.

With little time to waste, the brothers vacate the alley and enter the city once more.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

It takes them until the first rays of sunlight to reach the docks, hindered only by their lack of cover as the commotion from the castle brings yet more and more onlookers from their beds and into the streets. They stick to the alleys for the most part, less ventured by the public, disgusting though it is to trudge through waste and trash barefooted. No one complains. They've trudged through worse in shoes in their short lifetime.

Luffy, exhausted from the night's events, exhausted in general, too weak to continue under his own dwindling power, lies fast asleep against Sabo's back, the blond carrying him piggyback style as they near the harbor. Ace would have offered to carry Luffy – the boy weighs virtually nothing, a blessing and a curse – but due to the...circumstances concerning his back, Sabo had insisted. Ace had relented, unwilling to argue with his twin over the issue when they have bigger issues to tackle.

He did manage to swipe a torn but large blanket from another alley, draping it over Sabo and Luffy when the younger had started to shiver. The air, blessedly clean though it is, is crisp and biting this time of year. The last thing Ace wants is either of his brothers getting sicker than they already are.

Taking temporary cover behind a fisherman's shack by the shore, Ace peers around the corner, casting his eyes across the port, too early yet for people to be wandering about, not even the coast guard. There are quite a few ships to choose from, surprisingly. Well, not really. The king had hosted a grand party for his daughter's eighteenth birthday last night, inviting all from the nearest kingdoms to attend. Ace had never seen so many outlandish dresses or pompous assholes in his life, not even in High Town back on Dawn Island.

It makes him sick, being surrounded by those who value money, status, material things over human lives. He's more than glad to see it all go up in smoke, or some of it.

He shakes his head, banishing the thoughts. He needs to focus. Pick a ship, sneak aboard, hide until the next island. But which ship to take? Certainly none that bear the emblem of any royal family, which he can see quite a few of. Get discovered on one of _their_ ships, it's either immediate slavery or you're thrown overboard.

And then a fluttering, black flag catches his eye.

It's by far the smallest vessel, not even a ship, really. More like a large boat to transfer cargo and such. But the flag she bears, waving high and proud in the chilling winds, is none other than a pirate's jolly roger. It's an odd looking one; standard skull and crossbones, but with a curved mustache above a proud grin. Something about it niggles with familiarity in the back of Ace's mind, but he dismisses it for now.

He quickly scans the boat. No one seems to be aboard above deck. _But just in case…_

He closes his eyes, concentrating, willing the strange, inexplicable _other_ sense to see deeper into the ship. It's shaky at best, but he only picks up a mouse or two, maybe a rat. No humans aboard, not yet.

He opens his eyes, weighing their best options. Beggars can't be choosers, but if it were a choice between slavery under another noble or being caught and possibly killed by pirates…death is a less painful thing in the end. And at least the pirates have spare boats to steal.

He turns to Sabo crouching behind him and watching expectantly, Luffy fast asleep on his back. "There's a boat," he whispers. "No one's boarded yet, but we can probably hide in the barrels below deck. I think they're just full of grains or something."

Sabo lifts a brow. "Why do I sense a 'but' in there," he drawls. Ace scowls, but doesn't disprove it.

"…it's likely a transport vessel, meaning there's bigger ship waiting for them further off. And…they've got a jolly roger," he admits.

"Oh _good_ ," Sabo drones. "Pirates. A _much_ faster way to get us killed, well spotted, brother."

Ace sighs heavily, rolling his eyes heavenward and praying for patience. "Look, I don't like it either, but it's them, or the royals' ships. Guess which one _I'm_ more willing to take a chance with. Besides, worse case scenario, we throw the crew overboard and steal the boat before they reach the ship." Sounds easier said than done, but despite their appearance, they're not exactly _weak._ "Trust me, 'Bo. This might be our only chance to get off this godforsaken island."

He waits, watching Sabo bite his lip, battling with himself, casting a brief glance at Luffy's sleeping face perched on his shoulder. Eventually, he gives in with a sigh. "Fine. But if they lock us up, you can't say I didn't tell you so."

Ace smirks wryly, offering a hand to help Sabo to his feet. "Shut up. Let's move."

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"What's with all the commotion?" Thatch asks, hefting the sack of flour over his shoulder with a grunt and letting it slap onto the wooden deck. He fights a sneeze when a small cloud of white powder puffs from a hole in the bag, and he dusts his hands off. "Awful lot of people running around this early in the morning. I heard somethin' about a fire, but…"

"There's been a riot at the royal palace," Jozu answers, carrying two barrels' worth of rum under both, muscular arms with an ease Thatch is not so subtly envious of. He sets them down and folds those colossal arms over his chest, facing Thatch. "Word on the streets are that a bunch of slaves managed to break free, start a fire and attack the guards and other nobles attending the princesses' eighteenth birthday party last night. No reports of casualties yet. Call me cruel, but I'm not too inclined to care."

Sitting on the starboard rail, Haruta snorts derisively, swinging his legs back and forth. "I'm with ya there. 'S their fault for following the Celestial Dragons' example and thinking hoarding dozens of slaves was ever a good idea." He looks back at the city and scowls at the smoke now lazily drifting in the early morning sky, the fire successfully put out. "Bastards, those nobles. All of 'em."

"Alright, alright, enough of that talk, you lot," Fossa scolds, lightly, mussing up Haruta's mane of red hair as he passes, earning a cat-like hiss from the younger commander that he dismisses with a chuckle. "Let's get these supplies back to the ship before the marines come callin'. If there's anything those guys like more than catchin' pirates, it's blamin' 'em for every bad thing that happens whether they're involved or not."

Thatch huffs a laugh, already making to pull up the anchor with Jozu's aid. "True that. And honestly? It's too early in the morning to mess around with marines. That's more of an afternoon thing in my opinion. Like, after lunch, but not _right_ after lunch, so that you're not fighting on a full stomach, you know what I mean?"

"What kind of pirate has a timetable for when he wants and _doesn't_ want to fight marines?" Haruta snickers, hopping off the railing as the boat starts to drift from port. Fossa's already raised the sails and is now manning the helm, setting their course for the Moby Dick, home sweet home. He stretches his arms over his head with a yawn. "I'mma go ahead and dump some of this stuff down below for now. How long 'till we reach the Moby do you think, Thatch?"

Thatch looks up at the sky, pinks and purples giving way to clear blue as the sun rises higher. "Hmm. I'd guesstimate about six hours? Maybe less judging by wind currents?"

"Let's say five," Fossa says at the helm, eyes fixed ahead. "They're not _that_ far out. Still, might wanna grab somethin' to eat. You got anything below, Thatch?"

Thatch gives his brother a wounded look. "Oh ye of little faith, for you to even ask such a question. Of _course,_ I, the head chef of the Moby Dick, have food for my beloved, _grateful_ siblings," he chastises, to which they all roll their eyes at and shake their heads. Hmph. Hooligans, no respect for his theatrical performance. God, he sounds like Izo.

"Might as well come with me, then. Take this while you're at it, drama chef." Haruta drops the incredibly heavy sack of flour into Thatch's tired, unsuspecting arms, turning on his heel with another snicker when Thatch stumbles with a wheeze. Fossa and Jozu chuckle heartily at Thatch's misfortune, and Thatch sticks his tongue out before following Haruta down the steps to the lower deck. The little bastard is only carrying two sacks of herbs and fresh fish, their _lighter_ cargo.

The storage deck is dark, no portholes or lamps to shed light, and the temperature varies depending on the that of the waters they sail. Currently, it's chilly enough that Thatch has to stifle a shiver when they reach the bottom of the stairs. "Jeez, 's cold down here," he mutters, waddling over to the bench where he usually stacks their non-perishables, slapping it down with a huff. A small cloud of flour wafts from the sack, again, and Thatch stands back, hands on his hips, satisfied. "There. This, plus everything Marco and the others brought over yesterday, should hold us over 'til the next island. Right?"

"Should do," Haruta muses, tossing the herbs by the barrels of nuts and crates of fruit. He smirks, facing Thatch. "Considering the size of _our_ crew and their levels of maturity, though, how long d'you think the sake will hold –?"

 _"ha-chew!"_

They freeze. Stare at each other.

Thatch blinks. "…did you sneeze just now?" he asks.

Haruta blinks back. "Um. No?"

Slowly, the two commanders turn to the stacks and crates of food and supplies against the wall. "Then…" Thatch mutters, eyes narrowing as he takes a step closer, Observation Haki beginning to flare. His hands twitch, aching for his swords at his hips. "Who the hell…?"

He catches the slightest twinge of fear in the compact space before three, black, incredibly large rats leap out from the bags of flour Thatch had just slapped down, scampering across the floor. Despite themselves, the two pirates let out ungodly screeches.

 _"EEE!_ Freakin' little –" Haruta curses as the rodents disappear up the stairs, squeaking all the while. No doubt they'll jump overboard before Jozu or Fossa can deal with them. "How the heck did we not notice we had rats?"

Shock dwindling until slight annoyance takes its place, Thatch sighs and shakes his head with a grimace. "Well, Marco's said we've been a little complacent these last few days, so I guess this proves his point. Being in Paradise does that to ya, I guess," he says. "Though I gotta admit, sneezing rats? Kind of adorable."

"Heh," Haruta waves him off. "You and animals, I swear. C'mon, let's grab an apple or something and head back up. I can't wait to get home and sleep for a thousand years."

"What are you even talking about?" Thatch teases as he grabs four apples from the nearest crate, tossing one to his ship brother and crunching on another as they trek up the stairs. "You've not done a damn thing since we got into port _yesterday."_ Their banter continues until they reach the poop deck, where Thatch tosses Jozu and Fossa their apples and then sits back to enjoy the ride back home, the breeze cool and calm, welcome despite the chill of early December.

He can't help but frown to himself a little, though. Sneezing rats, though adorable, had never sounded quite so…human?

He hums to himself, stroking his goatee as he casts his gaze to the clear skies, watching a trail of seagulls fly overhead. If even a few measly rats could escape the notice of, not one, but _four_ Whitebeard pirates, then what else might they have missed while they'd been ashore?

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Luffy, you have to be quieter or they'll spot us, okay?" Sabo whispers behind a crate of nuts.

The small, brown-eyed boy shrugs his shoulders shyly and rapidly signs 'Sorry. The flour tickled my nose. I couldn't help it'.

Ace shakes his head and sighs. "Your fault for hiding _under_ the flour, dummy."

Luffy gives him a single sign in response; a middle finger.

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N ~ Chapter 2 just for youuu! I can't believe the following this has gotten; 32 follows, 27 faves?! Guys, I love y'all! Thank you so much, I hope I don't let you down!**

 **On with the chapter! I OWN NOTHING!**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 _Lost in the rock and roll_

 _Got lost in a promise of a love I never know._

* * *

 _"What – what on earth are these little…_ rats _you've brought us this time, Captain?"_

 _"Your majesty, if I may - I know they might not look like much to an eye as keen for detail and finery as yours, but these three rats have quite a reputation in the East Blue, y'see. They're capable fighters, strong, smarter than they look, and more importantly, they're dependable, durable. They'll work hard, given the right motivation, and they won't need breaks. They won't cry or complain or want for anything. Perfect additions to your collection, wouldn't you say?"_

 _"Hmm…I see. Well, say what you will, but they still look like wild animals, more likely to eat off the floor or chew the furniture than the dogs are. If what you say is true, how on earth do you expect my guards and servants to break them like the rest?"_

 _"My husband is correct. Look at them! They're positively filthy, and that one looks like he'll bite my fingers off! I don't want such – such_ savage _little beasts in_ my _castle!"_

 _"Oh, but mother, look at the little one with the brown eyes! It's so adorable! Look at it, it's shivering like a chihuahua! I want it as a pet! I promise I'll take care of it this time, I promise!"_

 _"Well…"_

 _"If I may, your majesty, you won't find good slaves like these anywhere else, and certainly not at the price I'll gladly sell them to you for; you pay for two, and I throw in the runt free of charge! A once in a lifetime opportunity if I do say so myself. What say you, King Serge?"_

 _"…oh, very well, then. I'll take them. Magdalene, you may have the little one as a pet for now, but when it gets too big it'll have to go back to the cells with the others."_

 _"Oh_ thank _you, father! Teeheehee, it's so_ cute _, even for a dirty little slave!"_

 _"Thank you for your business as always, your highness."_

 _"Likewise, Captain, likewise. Let's see how long it takes for our new little pets to break, shall we?"_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Ace jolts awake at a sudden impact that rocks the boat to a halt.

He swallows hard, his breaths short and shallow, and he sits up, wiping off the sheen of sweat collecting along his brow with his hand. Quickly, he scans the dark storage hold for two bodies, but when his eyes fail to catch them in the dark, his _other_ sense flares before he can fall into a panic and seizes two, familiar presences. They're still fast asleep, entangled in each other; Luffy, tucked close to Sabo's chest, Sabo's arms locked around Luffy's tiny frame.

They're safe. They're safe, unharmed, and free.

Ace lets out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, shoulders sagging. He swallows again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. Despite the scare, he feels somewhat rested. He hasn't slept this good since he was ten. And considering they're in the belly of a boat, surrounded by crates, sacks and barrels of food, and sleeping on wooden floors, that's saying quite a lot.

His dreams, unfortunately, weren't quite as pleasant. They never are. But this...

Those memories. It'll take more than one night's rest to banish them, banish everything spanning the last five years from their minds, bodies, souls…that is, if they'll ever go away at all. Maybe they'll stay, forever, chaining them to _that place_ and _them_ despite having escaped the very island.

Ace grits his teeth, shaking his head.

 _No. We'll get over it. We'll be free, freer than anyone else, and live with no regrets, no chains, no brands – nothing but the wind, the sea, and each other._

Movement, footsteps and voices from overhead makes him jump a second time, reminding him where they are, what they must do. Quickly but quietly, he moves over to wake his brothers, shaking them firmly. "Lu, Bo, wake up," he whispers, just loud enough. Sabo is the first to jump awake, followed shortly after by a drowsier Luffy, who sits up and rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm with a soft yawn. Both of them have mussed up bed hair sticking up and out in all directions, and Ace takes a precious moment to note how wretchedly adorable they look before urging them into action. "I think they've reached the main ship. They'll be down here any minute, hop in the barrels and don't make a sound," he says.

"Like you need to tell us," Sabo huffs, belying the undercurrent of trepidation and urgency Ace can feel radiating off the blond as he helps Luffy clamber inside a barrel half full of apples, just enough for the twelve-year-old to squeeze into. He offers Luffy a smile, ruffling his already fluffy spikes of hair before climbing into another barrel full of grains nearby.

Ace pricks his ears; the pirates sound like they're about ready to unload the supplies. He needs to hide, but not until he's sure his brothers are comfortable and safe, a routine they've never strayed from once. He goes over to Luffy once he's settled in among the apples that will no doubt disappear by the time they've boarded the ship, taking the boy's face between his hands and grinning. "You'll be good, right Luffy?" he prompts, earning a cheeky snicker that makes no promises and a quick 'yes' gesture from his baby brother. Ace chuckles, rubbing their noses together briefly to get a giggle out of Luffy before leaning back, picking up the cover of the barrel and sealing it carefully over Luffy's head.

Immediately, he hears muffled munching sounds, and he shakes his head, a fond smile quirking his lips. Bottomless pit 'till the very end.

"Sap," Sabo teases from his barrel as Ace moves over to him next, grabbing the cover off the floor. "You never used to be like this with him back home. I thought you had a 'reputation' to uphold."

Ace shrugs, unrepentant. "If it keeps him calm and quiet, what do I care. And what's it to you?" He grins, leaning in close as Sabo leans away in mock disgust. "Are you _jealous_? You want a kiss on the cheek too, _little_ _brother_?"

"Shut your ugly face," Sabo mutters, but he's smiling, really smiling. Ace counts it as a win, right up until the smile fades and concern takes over. "You really think they won't find us down here?" he asks, fingers gripping the splintered rim of the barrel tight. "It can't be that easy. They're not washed up pirates from East Blue like Bluejam, remember."

Ace frowns, nodding slowly. The thought of Bluejam, after all these years, compared to what they've seen out here on the Grand Line's unpredictable seas...it's laughable, really, that he was ever considered a 'true' pirate in their eyes, that they'd ever been afraid of him at all. "I remember," he replies. "And don't worry, _if_ they discover us, I'll fight them off while you and Luffy get away safe."

Sabo groans, exasperated. "Ace –"

There's no time for arguments, especially not this one, so Ace cuts him off by pressing a brief but firm kiss into his brothers' hair, startling him into silence. "Just trust me, Sabo," he whispers as he draws back. "I know what I'm doing."

Mismatched eyes stare up at him long and hard for a moment, and then Sabo relents with a huff. "Fine. And you're still a sap."

"Love you, too," Ace chimes brightly, and then half slams the cover over Sabo's head, muffling the blonde's indignant yelp as he seals it.

" _Ass,"_ he hears from the depths of the barrel, and Ace chuckles as he hops into his, securing the lid and preparing to wait. He loves his brothers, more than anything, flaws, quirks and all. And regardless of Sabo's words or his thoughts on the matter, no matter how selfish that may sound, he'll do whatever it takes to keep them alive, live the dream they'd birthed as children running wild in the jungles of Goa.

If it means they'll live, happy and free from worry, sadness, pain, bondage, fear…

He clenches a fist, listening as the footsteps and voices become louder, closer. He closes his eyes.

 _I'd take on a horde of pirates for them. I'd gladly die for them._

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Marco!"

A familiar flare of Haki and an excited yell is Marco's only warning, and suddenly his arms are full of Thatch as the taller man barrels into him from the gangplank, his pointed chin digging into Marco's shoulder as he clings on tight like a koala to a tree. Marco just chuckles and hugs his brother and best friend back, barely ruffled from the enthusiastic leap. It's only been a day or two, but Thatch rarely leaves the ship these days for anything other than stock runs, and his presence among the commanders has been sorely missed by many. No one but Pops, Vista and possibly Kingdew would openly admit it, but it was clear on their faces.

"Hey, buddy," he says as they draw away, clapping the taller man on the shoulder. "Good to have you back in one piece. How'd everything go for you guys, yoi?"

Thatch grins at him, wrapping one arm around Marco's shoulder and waving his free arm at the load they've brought aboard with the help of their eager siblings awaiting their arrival. "Not bad at all, as you can see, oh astute, bird-brained brother of mine," he boasts, and Marco just rolls his eyes at his theatrics and the unnecessary insults he just seems to spew whenever he so much as _looks_ at Marco. "Haruta says we should be set 'till we reach the next island, god willing. But, ah…" He rubs the back of his head, biting his lip.

'Dumbass Brother' senses going off immediately, Marco narrows his eyes, ducking under Thatch's arm and folding his own over his tattooed chest. "What did you do, yoi?" he drones, already feeling a headache on the horizon. "We're already on not-so-good terms with the islands' locals as it is –"

"I know, I know!" Thatch defends, holding up his hands in surrender under Marco's scrutinizing glare, "and _we_ didn't do anything, honest! It's just – well, there was an incident last night involving the rulers, so we kinda had to dash before the marines could point fingers."

Marco quirks a brow, tilting his head. "What incident exactly?"

"Nothing _we_ need to really be concerned about, if I'm honest. Just a bunch of slaves broke free and started a riot, setting fire to the whole castle."

Marco's eyes go wide. "Seriously? The _whole_ castle?" he repeats, feeling a surge of pride and grim satisfaction within him at the mention of the nobles having received their comeuppance in full at the hands of those they thought they could use, those they treated like nothing. Brings back good old memories of earthquakes, a toppled kingdom and a dethroned king, a smile wider than the seas and warmer than the suns rays, a solemn promise and an offer he could never refuse, not if he relived a thousand lives.

Thatch must see it in his eyes, for his smile is a shade warmer despite the morbid nature of the incident. "Yep. Didn't stick around to see the show or hear the list of casualties. Hoping most of the slaves got away though, poor things. Anyway, where's Pops? Gotta ask him about something real quick. Nothing really important, just a small thing."

Marco accepts the swift change of subject and Thatch's blatant dismissal of something that's obviously bothering him, cocking his head to the side. "In his quarters, yoi, shifting through the papers, I believe. He heard a report on Red Hair tearing apart another government funded auction house in the New World. I swear, in all my years sailing these seas I've never seen that man act as recklessly as he has been, yoi."

" _Another_ one?" Thatch gawks, following Marco as they head to the captain's quarters together, weaving through the small crowd of gathering shipmates. "Damn, you ain't kidding. These last few years, all I hear about the guy is him wreaking havoc every time he crosses one of those places. I mean, I know he's not that much of an asshole to just ignore a place like that, but I've never pegged him as a saint that goes around freeing slaves or anything."

Marco hums in agreement, ignoring Namur and Jiru complaining about the weight of two barrels as the crew begins the process of putting their newly acquired stock away. "Though it's not uncommon for pirates to destroy auction houses, I don't recall Red Hair getting too much involved with the slave trade in any way. I said the same to Pops, yoi. But he says he doesn't think Red Hair's doing this for a cause one might think."

"Hm? What d'you mean?"

"If you've been following the reports, there's a connection to every single auction house he takes down, yoi. They're funded, accepted or deliberately ignored by the Marines and the World Government in general, and have made routes from Paradise to East Blue in the past few years. He's only been going after these for about five years or so. Pops has a theory that he's looking for someone that might've been taken within that five-year span."

Thatch blinks, surprised. "You're sayin' that maybe a member of his crew got kidnapped and sold off or something?"

Marco shrugs. "Possibly, yoi."

"But they're the Red Hair Pirates!" Thatch exclaims, waving his arms about like he's about to take flight (and no, this is _not_ the pot calling the kettle black, thank you). "I mean, they're on par with _us_ for cryin' out loud, pirates that some _Admirals_ don't even wanna cross! Who would be dumb enough to think they could get away with _touching_ one of his guys without getting wiped the hell off the face of the earth?"

Chuckling, though Thatch's words aren't too far off the mark, Marco shrugs again. "What can I say, it's a big world out there; you'll always find _someone_ dumbass enough to try anything. Just look at Roger, yoi."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Still, there's gotta be a _limit_ to the dumbassery –"

" _What the –?!"_

The two commanders pause, turning on their heels in unison to see Haruta staring, wide-eyed and slack jawed, into one of the barrels they've brought aboard. Fossa joins him, and a second later his cigar falls from his gaping maw, bouncing to the floor, and his eyes pop from their sockets.

"What's the matter, yoi?" Marco calls as other curious pirates start to gather and murmur among them. Thatch quirks a brow, folding his arms behind his head, relaxed but interested.

Fossa and Haruta share a truly bewildered, if not somewhat disturbed, glance before turning to their first division commander. "M-Marco," Haruta stammers, and with Fossa's help he spins the barrel to show what lies inside…or what _used_ to, Marco realizes with no shortage of shock.

Thatch quickly looses what nonchalance he had, releasing what can only be a strangled garble of incoherent words before he screeches – _"Who the_ _ **hell**_ _ate all the apples?!"_

Indeed, what had once been a barrel full of fresh apples ready to eat, has now been reduced to a barrel full of apple _cores_. Judging by how many cores are left, however, implies that the culprit had eaten their way through a good hundred or so apples _plus_ the cores, but didn't have much room for the rest.

It should be hilarious. It _is_ hilarious, actually, because someone had eaten their way through an entire barrel of _apples_ in _one_ _sitting_. But at the same time, someone had eaten their way through an _entire_ _barrel_ of apples in one sitting _,_ and not one of the commanders present on the deck had noticed anything in the short time it had taken for them to be brought aboard.

"You think it could've been those rats you found when we set off from port?" Jozu asks, plucking a core from the barrel and inspecting it. Thatch dashes over, glaring inside the barrel and mourning the loss of their provisions. Marco follows his distraught brother at a more leisure pace, but he doesn't dawdle either. As First Mate of the Moby Dick, he'll need to report this to the captain and look into it, even if they are just apples.

"Can't be," Haruta replies with a shake of his head, eying the barrel like the suspect in question might jump out from the otherwise empty barrel. "Not even rats can go through this much in one go. And Namur was just complaining over how heavy it was a few seconds ago, that thing was _full_ when we brought it up, I promise you."

"I wasn't _complaining,"_ Namur mutters, fooling no one, but the fishman does look wrong-footed as he follows Haruta's gaze. "Still, I could've sworn…"

"Wait, look at this."

All eyes fall on Jozu once more, and the large man leans down, displaying the apple core he'd been scrutinizing. Marcos peers into Jozu's larger hand, a brow raised. "I don't think rats did this after all," the third commander says. "Look at the bite-marks."

And after a moment of inspection, Marco finds that he's right. Rats didn't do this. Because these bite-marks are distinctly _human_.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Ace shuts the door behind them carefully but firmly, shoving the heaviest thing he can find – which happens to be a cannonball, which his back will _not_ allow him to pick up, so he results to rolling it – against the door to dissuade anyone that might try to come in and snoop. However, judging by the room itself and its size and lack of natural or florescent light, he can't imagine anyone needing to be down here any time soon. It appears to the sort of room one would just dump something in when they're being lazy and/or don't know where something is supposed to go, and so leave it here until they can remember or even be bothered to.

 _Kind of like what we were, back at the castle,_ a horrible little voice oily whispers in the back of Ace's mind, a sadistic purr right in his ear, and he shakes it away violently. Instead, he focuses on relaxing, or trying his best, knowing that he and his brothers are safe and out of sight, for now. With all the pirate's attention being drawn elsewhere, it was an almost simple task creeping from their barrels and vanishing below decks, deeper and deeper, until they reached the very bowels of this massive ship they call the Moby Dick. A few close calls along the way, including a very large, very white, very curious dog with the _weirdest_ freaking mustache under its nose (much like the skull on their flag), but they made it in one piece. They weren't spotted once, or impeded in any way.

Well, almost. Which reminds him…

A little groan echoes from behind, and Ace turns to where Sabo hovers over Luffy, the boy curled up on his side with his fingers clutching his stomach, brows pinched and lips down-turned in a pained grimace as he whines softly. The eldest of the trio sighs, walking over and sitting on Luffy's other side by his head, crossing his legs. "How is he?" he asks Sabo.

Rubbing soothing circles along Luffy's back, Sabo meets Ace's eyes, lips taut in a rueful smirk. He shrugs a shoulder. "Could be better. You saw how much he puked up there," he says, and then he frowns. "That's…probably gonna give us away, isn't it?"

Ace winces through his teeth. "It might."

Luffy opens his eyes, looking every bit as miserable as he undoubtedly must feel, lifting his hands off his belly to sluggishly raise his arms. 'I'm sorry,' he signs, his movements lethargic and sloppy. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and lip wobbles, much to Ace's horror. 'I was really hungry. I didn't think the apples would make me sick.'

"Shh, Luffy, it's okay," Ace soothes, running a hand through the twelve-year-old's hair, wiping a stray tear away with his other hand. "It's alright, it's not your fault." Luffy leans into his touch in an instant, though his frown remains, unhappy and full of guilt as he sniffs once. Ace fights the urge to curl his hand into a fist and growl like a beast at the sight.

Though it's true the pool of vomit they'd left behind might work to their detriment, it's not like they'd left a trail of it. No one will find them. And if they do, it certainly won't be the fault of a starving child barely into his teens who just wanted to eat. Luffy _cannot_ be allowed to think that, not for a moment.

"First of all, you're not rubber right now, so your belly can't stretch like a balloon and hold food the way it used to," Ace adds with a smile, one that Luffy finally returns, no doubt remembering just how _big_ his belly could get after a hefty meal thanks to the work of his devil fruit. "And you're not used to eating as much food anymore _anyways_ because of...well, you know. For a little while, you'll have to pace yourself so you don't get sick again, which means smaller meals and easier foods to swallow, alright?"

The look Luffy gives him might imply that Ace has just killed an innocent puppy right in front of him as he suddenly sits up, nearly knocking into Sabo's head, wide awake. ' _What_?!' he signs, utterly distraught. Sabo laughs softly as Luffy's gestures become too desperate and too fast for either of them to translate, and all Ace can do is grab his hands and hold them still before he breaks his arms.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," he appeases, chuckling when Luffy pouts up at him and glares through his bangs. "It's been a long day, and you need to rest. You threw up half your intestines back there, so just lie back down for now, that's it." He eases Luffy back down on his back with a hand splayed across his chest, and the boy goes willingly. Ace boops him on the nose once with a finger, and the phony glare vanishes from Luffy's face, replaced with a grin so bright its blinding. _Much better._

Sabo stands and creeps over to a box stacked with what look like spare blankets; old, a little torn in some places, but more than enough and thick enough to ward off the chill. With a satisfied nod, Sabo spreads the blanket over Luffy's tiny body, making a show of tucking the boy in, "so you can't escape," he teases, and Luffy squirms and giggles uncontrollably; it's infectious, for soon Sabo joins him, trying and failing to shush the younger boy when he can't stop grinning. Luffy sticks out his tongue, which of course Sabo takes as a challenge, and so he grabs the boy's face between his hands and blows a raspberry into his cheek, earning a squeak of protest as a scuffle ensues, tangling the two in the blanket.

Ace watches them go at it like a pair of lion cubs, shaking his head, but his smile is wide and real, and full of love and wonder.

Wonder for how Luffy can still laugh and giggle the way he does, when even now he's too afraid to _speak_ , how he can still love so completely, how the light shines ever brighter in those impossibly dark eyes that have seen so much of the worst this world has to offer. Wonder for how Sabo can even _smile_ , burns ascending the length of his left side, marring his face and encumbering his vision on the worst of days, how there's still fight left in him, enough to growl and scream and claw at the guard that had aided them in their escape with his inevitable death.

Wonder for how someone like Ace, with the devils' blood in his veins and darkness in his heart, could even hope to deserve such wonderful, endlessly loving and strong little brothers in the face of the very demons they'd fought to be free from since they knew what it meant to be caged at all.

Sabo notices Ace's lingering gaze once the giggles and playful fracases have subsided, and he shoots Ace a look of his own as he tucks Luffy back in again. "Ace? You alright?" he asks. Luffy's enormous and curious eyes peek over the edge of the blanket that's swallowing him whole.

"What? Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Ace says quickly, shuffling closer to bump his shoulder against Sabo's and reach for Luffy again, running a hand through his hair. It really needs a wash – hell, they all do, no wonder the dog kept trying to follow them, they must _stink_ – but cleanliness can be dealt with later. "I bet you're both starving, even after _this_ little idiot decided to eat a whole barrel of apples," he directs a teasing grin at a bashful Luffy. Sabo snickers. "We'll steal some food when it gets darker. I think I heard of one them mention something about a party tonight to welcome back the guys we came with."

Sabo kisses his teeth in frustration. "Jeez, seriously?"

"I know, perfect timing, right?" Ace rolls his eyes. "Regardless, we need food and fresh water, enough to tide us over for another day or so if this is where we're gonna stay 'till we reach land. Here's hoping they'll be drunk enough not to notice me when I go up there."

At that, Sabo arches a brow. "Why you?" he asks. "You need rest as much as Lu and me. I'll go up, I'm better at sneaking around than you guys anyway –"

"First of all, shut the hell up, I'm great at sneaking. Second of all, this isn't up for discussion. With this cuff on my foot, I'm no use to anyone, least of all Luffy, if someone comes in and attacks us, with or without my devil fruit powers." He knows he's winning this when Sabo, frustration in his eyes and the set of his tense shoulders, looks away. Sighing, Ace puts a hand on Sabo's shoulder and squeezes. "You're best off staying here with Luffy for now, Sabo. Find something to pick these cuffs off somewhere in here in the meantime, okay?"

Luffy's big eyes dart between him and Sabo, watching them both and waiting, hugging the folds of the blanket to his chest. Sabo's jaw locks, mismatched eyes burning holes in the opposite walls. The blond never used to give in so easily before. Not since they were taken, and obedience became less of an option and instead a means of survival.

Five years ago, Sabo would've bitten the hand off anyone who told him to stay behind, to behave, submit, _do as you're told_. Hell, even Ace telling him to do something got him a scowl and roll of the eyes. Now, it scares Ace just how quickly Sabo acquiesces. It _scares_ him, knowing that this…this _obedience,_ this version of his brother who is as quick to surrender as he is to protect and shield, is what might become of Sabo until the day he dies.

 _No. I won't let it. I won't let them keep your freedom, Sabo._

Eventually, Ace is relieved and disappointed when Sabo does inevitably concede with a sigh from his very soul. He reaches up to plop his hand atop Ace's hair, fingers digging lightly into the scalp before their gazes meet. "Just don't get caught," he says, almost pleading. He leans forward, and Ace's forehead meets his halfway.

Ace shuts his eyes. "Course I will. Idiot."

Sabo's hold tightens, just a little. He's worried, of course he is. And he's scared. Who wouldn't be? They're on a ship full of pirates who'd sooner slit their throats than let them hitch a ride. And it's true, Sabo _is_ better at sneaking; he'd run away from home, undetected, at five-years-old, and is half the reason they'd managed as well as they did when their daily routines involved picking pockets from High Town nobility. But now…things are different. Out of the three of them, Sabo has the best chance at fending off threats. Sea stone weakens devil fruit users, and with two out of commission…

Hell, going out on deck with sea stone, surrounded by pirates, some of which are undoubtedly unimpeded devil fruit eaters, is suicide. But Ace has never been one for making the most sensible decisions, and when it comes to his brothers, their health and well-being, nothing short of death itself will deter him.

He can do this. It's a simple food run, another dine-and-dash, just like old times. All he has to do is not get caught, not die, and come back with food and water to last them for a few hours at least. Easy as pie.

"Also, don't get drunk," Sabo adds with a smirk Ace can hear and then see when he opens his eyes to give the cheeky bastard a _look._ Sabo carries right on, "no talking to strangers, look both ways before crossing the ship, remember that men are pigs and are only after –"

"Dude, stop _talking_ ," Ace laughs, shoving Sabo away with a hand over his face. He yelps as he topples on top of Luffy, who lets out another squeak at the added weight. Tension successfully lifted, Ace allows himself to relax as much as he can, leaning back on his hands to watch Sabo curse and heft himself up again, shooting Ace a petulant glare until his attention is drawn to Luffy, who gestures eagerly for a story before he goes to sleep. Complying, ever the soft soul, Sabo grins and settles Luffy's head on his lap, fingers carding through his unruly hair as he delves into a wonderful story that even Ace can't help but listen to with rapt attention.

It's a story about pirates and dragons, of a trio of brothers as strong and fierce as the seas, and free as the blowing wind that charts their course on the grandest adventure of all.

(It's a story Ace is willing to do _anything_ to make a reality, one day.)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N~ Hooooly snap, you guys, the support and encouragement from you guys is utterly MIND BLOWING! I don't think even my Titanic AU or my ninja turtles fics get this much attention so quickly XD Thank you so much, I hope I don't let you down! Also, fair warning, this fic will be dealing with sensitive subjects like PTSD and other things. I'll put warnings up before every chapter that might include these subjects, in case anyone is triggered. Don't worry though, it's not all gloom and doom and sadness for these boys, promise :)  
**

 **Alright, on with the chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. AND NO ONE OWNS THESE BOYS, THEY'RE FREE DAMMIT!**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 _Shadows chase me far from home_

 _I remember when my heart was filled with gold._

* * *

It doesn't take long for Luffy to drift off once Sabo's thrilling story comes to a happy end. A story, no matter how exciting or action packed, guaranteed to do the exact opposite of what a bedtime story designs, will always put their youngest to sleep in minutes, which he soon does with a smile on his face as he dreams of bigger, better things than what the real world seems to offer, curling up into a ball on the ground like a kitten under the blanket Sabo tucks around him.

He never used to sleep like this. Before, he'd have his limbs spread all over the place, snoring loud, boar-like, drooling like a fountain and not a care in the world. He'd always end up on top of someone come morning light, or smacking someone else in the face with a rubbery hand during the night.

It was annoying as hell. Ace misses it.

Sabo, though, has been fighting sleep tooth and nail despite its unrelenting call, determined to at least wait until it's time for Ace to leave, or worse, wait until he comes back. He tries, but he's exhausted, can barely keep his eyes open, can barely stand or walk in a straight line as he tries and fails to scour the boxes for something to pick the locks on the sea stone cuffs. He'll pass out and hurt himself at this rate.

Not about to allow such idiocy, not even from Sabo, Ace manages to coax him into stepping away from the boxes and lying down. Not without some form of protest, of course.

"Noooo, don' need sleep," Sabo slurs, barely resisting as Ace takes him by the shoulders and gently pushes him down next to Luffy. Sabo struggles, hands pushing against Ace's chest, but his attempts are sloppy and kitten-like, barely budging Ace at all. "Gotta – gotta stay 'wake," he mumbles, eyes fluttering, "gotta…watch over Lu…"

"Don't be an idiot. Lie the hell down and get some rest, Bo, it's okay," Ace whispers in his ear, draping the blanket over them both as he leans back. Luffy immediately curls up against Sabo, burying into his warmth and clinging to the ratty t-shirt with an iron grip. Sabo won't be able to leave even if he wanted to, which he already knows, and so surrenders with a huff. Ace chuckles at the sight they make, ignoring the pout marring Sabo's scared face as he tucks them back in. "I won't be gone long, promise. I'll be here when you wake up," he adds, folding up another blanket and slipping it under their heads like a pillow.

Sabo looks up at him with bleary eyes, arms wrapped tightly around Luffy. "…you'd better," he intones, a plea and a threat, before his eyes finally slip shut. He's out in seconds, breaths evening out, almost in tandem with Luffy's. He looks peaceful like this, they both do. The world can't touch them, safe as they are in their dreams.

(Ace knows there's nothing peaceful, or anything remotely _good_ about being tired, dizzy, nauseous and constantly sleeping because you're starving, your body doing everything it can to keep you alive.)

Ace remains awake, sat by his brothers curled up together on the hardwood flooring, one hand idly brushing through Sabo's hair, silver eyes cast upwards. Lethargy pulls at him, his stomach cursing him the longer he's forced to abstain from food, but he has to be patient. _Not yet,_ he thinks, and repeats it like a mantra, one that grounds him and echoes and aches with a strange familiarity that he can't quite place. _Not yet._

The sounds of jubilation, dancing and shouting, muffled though they are this far down, are loud and unrelenting. The party has already started. It can't be _that_ late, surely. Then again, these are real Grand Line pirates; they'll take any excuse or opportunity to party.

(Briefly, Ace wonders when they'd started viewing pirates as something they should be _afraid_ of, something they'd never dreamed of being one day; a dream too... _impossible_ to chase. He wonders, but doesn't dwell, not too much. The way things are now...the way _they_ are, what they've been molded into, a pirate's life may not be the life for them. Not anymore.

Then again, who knows what the future holds for them. Maybe there's hope yet, if Ace can stay strong, push him and his brothers through the grueling healing period.)

He waits another hour, even as the temptations of sleep yank at the edges of his consciousness. He wants to curl up with Sabo and Luffy, to drift off to sleep and dream of something sweeter than cages, chains and leering eyes below a glimmering stage where he'd dance and spin for their pleasure with only a fleeting, false sense of freedom.

He wants to get this stupid cuff off his foot. He wants his fire. He wants to see Mei –

 _Focus, Ace. It's almost time._

He takes a deep breath and stands, careful not to disturb his sleeping little brothers as he sifts through another box for a sack and a cloak he'd seen earlier. Setting the old sack down, he pulls the brown fabric of the cloak out and drapes it over his head and shoulders. It's long enough that it brushes the floor, hiding his bloodied, bare feet, shrouding his face in shadow. It's...a little suspicious, he admits, for a ship full of more colorful characters. But if it's as dark up there as he thinks it is, he'll blend right in. Hopefully. He really hopes they've cracked out the booze, though.

He crouches beside Sabo and Luffy one last time, brushing his hands through their hair. "I'll be back soon," he vows, pressing a kiss against their cheeks before standing, grabbing the sack and moving to the door. He carefully rolls the cannon ball out of the way, sparing his sleeping brothers one last glance over his shoulder before slipping through the door, shutting it, and dashing down the hall.

It'll be okay. He can do this. He's slipped scraps of food from under the noses of nobility at gatherings and plucked fruits from unattended baskets before, sharing them with his siblings and as many of the other slaves as he could without drawing any attention. This would be no different. Not if he's careful. They might be wary due to the disappearance of the apples earlier, but even the strongest of men's defenses are lowered at a party like this. He should know. He'd lived with bandits and a crazy old marine once upon a time.

 _I can do this,_ he tells himself, already nearing the top deck in a matter of minutes, a few turns left before he's out in the open. _I won't get caught. I_ can't _get caught. Sabo and Luffy need me._

 _I won't die. Not yet._

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Something pricks sharply at Luffy's senses, and he wakes with a muffed snort.

The first thing he notices is that he's once again curled up against Sabo's chest, the blonde's breaths slow, measured and calm as he sleeps. They're both tucked up tight and comfortable in the blankets Sabo had dug out from the boxes, one folded under his head like a pillow. The wood is brittle and worn but warm against his clammy skin. The muffled groans of the ship as the waves lap against its mighty frame are a soothing ambience, like a mother rocking her child to sleep in their downy bed. And with the added warmth of Sabo's arms around him, his heartbeat steady and constant against Luffy's ear, it showers Luffy in a sense of utter peace, safety, the likes of which he hasn't felt in so long.

It almost feels like they're back in their little tree-house in Goa.

This peace and safety, surrounding him like the welcomed darkness in the bowels of the ship, and yet there's something so inexplicably _wrong_ , enough to wake Luffy from the most pleasant dream he's had in years, and for the life of him he can't figure out what it is…

He's careful not to jostle Sabo too much as he sits up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. There's dried-up drool on the corner of his mouth, and his hair is sticking up and out all over; he doesn't care, though he does wipe the gross stickiness off his face with his arm as he scans the darkness of the hold.

Ace has already gone, it seems, and sadness and worry clutch Luffy's chest tightly. His brother is alright for now – he'd _know_ if he were anything otherwise, he's _always_ known when it comes to his big brothers, though he doesn't understand why or how he knows, he just _does_ – and Ace is strong, and fast, faster than any drunk pirate. So Luffy wills the trepidation away as best as he can for now.

But that's not what woke him, he knows. Ace's lacking presence isn't a new thing, not even back _there,_ when they'd take him from their cell, put him in chains and lead him away from them only to return him hours later, weary down to the marrow of his bones, eyes vacant, though his body much cleaner than it was when he left.

("Can't have their prized performer looking like trash," he'd said one night, Sabo tucked against his left side and Luffy on his right. He'd smelled nice, Luffy remembers, like flowers and spring water, and his skin was smooth. They'd given him a bath, groomed him, made him look special, only to be thrown back into rags when the night was over. "The only time they treat us with _some_ human decency, and it's just so we can look appealing to their guests," he'd sneered, and then under his breath, almost to himself, he'd added, "or to anyone who might want something more than a dance…"

Luffy was nine when he'd heard that, heard the repugnance and the slightest twinge of fear in his eldest brother's voice. He was young, but he wasn't dumb, or ignorant to the anxiety his incredibly brave older brother felt every time they took him from their cell to the dressing room…)

He shakes the memory away. He's getting off track. _Stupid_ _brain_.

Back to business; why did he wake up? Why is his body, weary though it is, tensing up like a jack-in-the-box ready to spring? Why is there something in the back of his mind ringing, blaring, telling him to _run?_

He finds out seconds later.

Voices, coming from outside, faint but getting louder, drawing nearer. Someone's coming.

Luffy gasps, his heart hammering as he grabs Sabo's shoulder and shakes him hard. " _Mn!"_ he grunts, insistent, pleading, and _why doesn't he just_ _ **speak**_ _for god's sake?_ (He knows why, and it kills him inside that they're _still_ holding him down, binding him even when they've left that hell behind.) " _Mmnnnn!"_

It's just enough, because Sabo nearly jumps out of his skin with a startled snort as he wakes, breathing hard and immediately reaching for Luffy, framing his face between his hands. "L-Luffy, Lu, are you okay? What's wrong?" he asks, and Luffy grabs his wrists as his brother looks him over. "Are you hurt? Did you have a nightmare –?"

Luffy gently but firmly pulls Sabo's hands away from his face. 'Someone's coming' he signs rapidly, fear making his arms shake, his gestures ungainly, and then he points frantically at the door. Sabo's eyes go wide as his head whirls. He stares at the door, his body tensing.

The voices are getting louder. They're cheerful and casual, engaged in a conversation Luffy can't hear with the blood pounding loud like drums in his ears.

 _They're gonna see us,_ Luffy thinks, trembling as his arms curl into his chest on instinct, _they're gonna see us and they're gonna make us slaves again or kill us_ –

Sabo moves suddenly, hooking one arm under Luffy's legs, the other supporting his back, and then he's up in in the air as Sabo cradles him close to his chest in a bridal carry. Then he's darting to the other side of the room, stumbling awkwardly in the dark, heading for the corner closest to the door and pressing his back against the wall.

Luffy throws his arms around Sabo's neck for support, assurance, as the voices and footsteps briefly pause just outside the door.

The door creaks open, light pouring in from the lamps in the hall. Two pirates step inside the room.

"I'm tellin' ya, it's not down here," one in a green tank top says to the other, a taller guy with bulging muscles and a beard that reaches his knees. "No way Commander Izo would leave it in here. Way too dirty and dusty, he'd throw a fit."

Luffy barely breathes as he stares at their backs, praying to every god he can think of that they don't turn around. His fingers dig into Sabo's shoulders until his knuckles turn white. Sabo's eyes are narrowed, calm but endlessly cold, laser focused on the two men as he slowly, quietly, starts to move. He side-steps on the balls of his feet for the door, mismatched eyes not once leaving the pirates, like he's _daring_ them to turn.

If they do, Luffy knows Sabo won't hesitate to kill them.

Luffy is no stranger to death. The first time, it'd been a mountain bandit, him and his little fishing boat swallowed whole by an angry Seaking. The second time, and then all the times after that, it had been slaves too old to work, too reckless, too desperate to escape, too _ugly_ for the princess to look at. One of them had been a middle-aged ex-pirate; he'd slit his throat with a kitchen knife he'd stolen during the day, and wasn't found until the next afternoon. Another had been a friend…

The most recent death had been the guard escorting them back to their cell, the night they made their escape. A degrading touch, filthy words of lust whispered into an unwilling ear; Sabo, horrified, forced to sit and watch alongside Luffy, had suddenly _snapped,_ much like the guard's neck did in the next instant. Sabo had barely batted an eye then, and later delivered another horrific blow to the guard with the spear. Now that they're free, Luffy is almost scared of what Sabo might do to these pirates. Almost.

"Hey," the bearded one says, crossing the room and kneeling by the pile of blankets they'd left behind. His companion follows, crouching beside him. "Did someone take a nap down here?"

"Probably Stefan," the tank top guy says with a shrug. "That mutt will sleep anywhere, including Division Twelve's shower room. Poor bastards."

"Eh, I suppose. Floor's still warm, though. And Stefan's a smart dog, but this doesn't look like something even _he_ would do. Looks more like a person made it. But why sleep down here?"

Step by step, Sabo finally reaches the door. The pirates, engrossed in their conversation, don't notice a thing. He sets Luffy back on his feet with care, and then with lightening speed he snatches Luffy's wrist and bolts with him down the hall, heading for the upper decks.

Luffy hears the pirates – "what was that?" "did someone just –?" – but he doesn't dare look back as they run, skidding around corners and leaping up flights of stairs, meeting no one along the way. Everyone must be out on the main deck for the party.

"That," Sabo pants as they reach the top of another flight of stairs, pausing for just a minute, for both their sakes, "was _too_ damn close. I – I swore they were gonna turn and spot us." He swallows hard, offering Luffy a shaky grin as he reaches out and cups his scarred cheek with one hand. "You okay?"

"Mmn!" Luffy nods, leaning into Sabo's palm and grinning, still wheezing from the run. He's better than he was after the apple incident, and sleeping had surely helped, but he'll never be at one hundred percent until he gets the cuff off, so that run had taken a lot out of him. 'That was kind of scary' he signs, and then hugs his shaking arms with a wobbly laugh that Sabo echoes.

"Yeah, it was. And now, it looks like we'll need a new place to hide." Sabo straightens, casting his gaze upwards where the music, laughter and stomping resonate without pause. They must be close to the main deck, Luffy thinks.

Sabo chews his bottom lip, a habit he has when he's thinking about something that might be a bad idea (Ace calls it the 'Sabo Regretting His Life Choices' look, or SRHLC for short). Soon enough, he nods to himself. "Okay," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "okay. We can't stay here, but we need to find Ace. Hopefully he's already gotten to the food. We'll grab him, and then find somewhere else to hide before the party winds down. Preferably somewhere _no one_ will wander into." He looks back down at Luffy, offering an apologetic smile. "I know you're still tired, but I need you to stay with me just a little longer. Can you do that for me, Lulu?"

Giggling at the nickname, Luffy nods. He is tired, incredibly so, but Sabo needs him to be strong. They've done so much (too much) for Luffy already without hesitation or complaint; it's way past time for him to return the favor. 'Yes. We can do this,' he signs, beaming widely and offering a thumbs up, just to make Sabo smile back, which he does, and ruffles Luffy's hair with both hands. _"Shishishi,"_ he laughs, batting Sabo's hands away. That tickles!

The light-hearted mood is short lived, however, and they both freeze at the sound of more voices coming around the corner, these distinctly slurred, implying intoxication. Running into pirates is one thing, running into a gang of _drunk_ ones is another.

Time to move.

Sabo grabs Luffy's hand, and away they vanish into the halls once more.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

When Luffy had told them about the time he'd met the greatest pirate he'd ever seen (and at that time, the _only_ pirate he'd ever seen), a man who went by the name Red Haired Shanks, he'd been quite vocal on how much they'd loved throwing random parties in Makino's bar every time they visited. They were loud, wild, full of food and drinks Luffy was not allowed within five feet of, full of songs a six-year-old had no business hearing, dancing and laughter that shook the very foundations of the little bar Luffy had called a temporary home. And when it was all over, the were right back at it again the next day. Luffy had loved it, every single time.

It certainly sounded like one hell of a time to Ace and Sabo, two boys with outlandish dreams of sailing the seas with their own crews one day. Although coming from a little boy like Luffy, who likes to exaggerate and deems something as insignificant as an insect as the most incredible thing, the whole story sounded…well, little more than a dream, really, a blissful pirate fantasy.

What Ace sees as he skirts the edges of the deck, however, is everything Luffy had described and _more._

Piles of food on tables cover the deck, roasting meat and sweet aromas of pastries and cakes floating through the air, assaulting Ace's senses, earning a painful growl from his empty stomach. Everywhere he looks, there are lights hanging overhead by the ropes and around the masts, someone is dancing or singing off-key to the music a bunch of guys are playing, someone is laughing with their arms thrown over someone else's shoulders, someone is drinking a pint or two, toasting over something ridiculous.

There's joy and cheer in the air; no doubt it can be heard for miles, though this ship is the only thing in sight as far as Ace can see in the growing darkness. It's almost infectious, almost has Ace smiling and tapping his foot to the beat of the music. Almost makes him want to jump right in.

The reminder that these are Grand Line pirates who'll no doubt kill him and his brothers on sight incenses him, and he moves on with his head down, his eyes on the prize.

He hits the table full of meats first, Luffy's favorite food. Bearing in mind their condition and what he'd warned Luffy of after the apple incident, he plucks and stashes a reasonable amount, not too much but not too little. He pinches a sausage just for himself, temptation too strong even for him, and for a moment he can't remember to breathe as the _delicious_ flavor washes over him.

He can't remember the last time he'd eaten _real_ meat. He might cry. Might, but won't.

He collects himself quickly, swallowing the rest of the meat (though it burns his tongue something awful on the way down), and moves on to the fruits and veggies (Luffy can complain all he likes, he's eating his damn greens), and then the cakes and pies. Ace and Sabo don't have much of a sweet tooth, but he knows Luffy will more than appreciate the treat. He's earned it, they all have –

A weight slams into Ace from his left, making him stagger unsteadily, and suddenly there's a very tall, very smashed pirate squishing against him, one arm wrapped around Ace's shoulders, pulling him close to his side.

Ace tenses from head to toe, eyes blown wide, heart hammering, knuckles turning white as he grips the bulging sack like a lifeline. He's been spotted. He's been caught, the pirate has him, he's failed, he's going to die oh god he's going to die and then they'll find his brothers and –

" _Heyyyyy_ buddy!" the pirate giggles, pulling Ace close enough that it's getting hard to breathe (and that's without the threat of a panic attack looming over his head). The voice is incredibly slurred but familiar; he must be one of the pirates they'd stowed away with. What's his name, Thatch or something? "Izzn't this par'y _great?"_ the man – Thatch(?) – adds with a hoot, slapping his knee with his free hand. "What a ball, 'm I right?!"

Ace bites his lip to keep it from trembling. "U-Uh, y-yeah, it sure – it sure is, uh, Thatch," he stammers through an attempt at a companionable smile, trying and failing to wriggle free from the one-armed hug the pirate has him locked in. God, drunk or not, this guy is _strong_. And he's _tall_ too, or maybe Ace is just short, too short for his age. The man also has a ridiculous hairstyle; an outlandish pompadour of all things, tied together with a goatee, a scar running down the left side of his face, and a big, goofy grin that almost reminds him of Luffy.

Ace takes one look at the healthy blush along his cheeks and nose, and knows this man is long gone from the land of the sane. Or so he hopes. It'll make it easier to get away.

And then Thatch blinks, hard, frowning down at Ace, brows furrowing. The teenager keeps absolutely still under the arm around his shoulders, even as the pirate leans down to look Ace in the eye, his features still partially hidden under the hood of the stolen cloak. Ace keeps smiling, doesn't blink, doesn't dare to even breathe.

"Hey. I dunno you," Thatch slurs, poking Ace in the chest with a finger. "Where'd you come from?"

 _It's over, it's over, it's over._ "I – I…I u-um –"

Then Thatch gasps. _"OOOOHHHHhhhh!"_ he exclaims, and Ace fights the cry that threatens to burst through his lips even as he jumps a foot in the air. This is it, this is the part where he –

"I get it, I get it now," Thatch says, laughing excitedly. "Pops must've 'dopted some new guys while we waz gone! I get it!" Giggling again like a child, he spins Ace around, taking off the hood and exposing Ace's rapidly paling face to the world. The man grins wider, impossibly happy, impossibly drunk. "Lookit you, you're – you're so _little!_ And tiny!" he coos, grabbing Ace's face between his hands and squishing his cheeks. "And you're so – so _cute,_ lookit your wittle freckles! How old even _are_ you, kiddo?"

Ace, for lack of a better term, is _shook._

He stares up at Thatch, one eye twitching, too stunned to even think of ripping himself from the man's grip. This pirate is so sloshed he thinks Ace is one of them. And – and where on earth did he get this whole 'adoption' thing from? What, is this a crew of _orphans?_ Who the hell is _Pops,_ is that the name they give their _captain?_ What is going _on_ here, why isn't he dead yet?!

"…whut?" is all the response Ace can muster with his brain scrambled and his cheeks squished like so.

This only seems to delight the pirate all the more as he throws his head back and laughs. "You're adorable, kid!" he snickers, releasing Ace's face. Before the teen can hope to move in time, Thatch thumps him twice on the back. "Welcome to the family!" He thumps him again, harder.

A horrible, searing pain _shoots_ up the length of Ace's spine, and it's all he can to do bite back a strangled yelp, squeeze his eyes shut and fiercely banish the wetness slowly building behind his eyes as he grits his teeth.

 _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts please stop hitting me it **hurts** – _

"Aahh, welp, I'm off!" Thatch sighs, a pleased grin splitting his face in two as he stumbles away, waving at Ace over his shoulder. "Help y'self to whatever y'want, new little brother! 'S all free!"

Ace doesn't bother to try and wave back as Thatch disappears into the crowd. He stares hard at the creaking floorboards, tugging the hood back over his head with a hand that trembles, gulping deep, grounding breaths. Music and laughter fade into silence in the bubble that suddenly encases him, the smell of food making his stomach roll, bile rising to his throat.

He stands here, still as a statue among celebrating swashbucklers, his spine screaming at him as to tries not to crumble to his knees, tries not to cry. He takes a deep breath through clenched teeth, almost hugging the bag of food to his chest.

It still hurts, _so much,_ it's been weeks and they still _hurt,_ that stupid, _stupid_ drunken bastard pirate made it _worse_ it **_hurts_** _they're gonna come back and hurt him again to try and make him cry and then they'll_ –

He bites down on his lip, hard. The minute his teeth breaks the soft skin, blood trickling down his chin, he doesn't think about the terrible ache in his back, or the phantom pain of metal bars and whips and chains beating him black and blue, or the press of cold hands feeling every inch of him –

 _'Oh, look at that, my lip is bleeding again,'_ is all he thinks instead, licking the blood off his lip absently.

Shaking himself, the sounds of music and laughter resuming anew as the bubble around him bursts, Ace investigates his somewhat crumpled sack; it's nearly overflowing with food, and it all smells amazing again. He smiles. Luffy and Sabo will _love_ this. Now he just needs to find some water.

He forgets the pain, forgets the drying blood on his lip, forgets the pirate and his words ('welcome to the family'? what the hell did _that_ mean?) and everything else, and heads toward the nearest barrel. There's bound to be something non-alcoholic around here.

(It's wrong, he knows, to use this 'method' he's made to cope, to forget, to divert focus. Really, it's almost worse. Sabo hates it, Luffy hates it, and it kills him to hurt them like that. But it's the best he can do, for now.

Anything to forget it all, forget _them,_ even for a moment.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

From his perch on the captains' chair, Marco can see just about everything and everyone on the deck, even as the lights, the smells and sounds assault his other senses with a mighty vengeance; a cumbersome price for a Zoan devil fruit, but a price he's willing to pay in full for the chance to watch over his family, side by side with the man he's more than proud to call his captain, his leader, his father in every way that matters.

He spots Vista and Kingdew in an arm-wrestling match, their audience cheering them on vigorously; it looks like a stalemate, right up until Atmos, the brute, reaches out and shoves their joined hands down on the table, breaking the table in the process. Laughter and cheers abound.

Marco shakes his head and smirks fondly. "Idiots, yoi," he mutters.

The giant of a man chuckles beside him, of course he does, and takes a hearty gulp of his tankard full of rum, of _course_ he does. "Let the fools have their fun, Marco," he says, his golden eyes cast about the ship they call their home, unparalleled warmth swirling in them. Another table smashes, followed by Izo scolding someone harshly for getting beer all over his kimono, and Whitebeard laughs again. "This is a party, isn't it? Might as well enjoy ourselves now that your brothers have returned."

Marco just looks at him. "You'd throw a party just for the sake of it, yoi," he says, and casts a meaningful glance at the tubes and patches attached to him, pumping constantly, an unkind reminder of just how old their father is despite his strength, the reputation he holds across the whole damn world. "Any excuse to drink to your heart's content despite the nurses, and _my,_ strict orders not to do so as often as you have been."

"Giving _me_ orders, are you? Need I remind you who the captain of this ship is, brat?" Whitebeard grins.

Marco grins back. "Need I remind _you_ who the one keeping the whereabouts of your emergency stash of rum a secret from the nurses is, yoi?" Whitebeard's grin falls quickly, and he eyes Marco warily. It's all Marco can do to keep on smiling, innocently arching a brow, fighting the urge to laugh.

"Fair point," the old pirate concedes with a grumble, looking away. Marco laughs lightly, patting his father on the shoulder. "Though I hope you're aware that I consider ratting me out to the nurses as an act of treason, my boy," he adds, though the grin beneath his mustache contradicts the threat that might make only outsiders, the weak-willed and the newbies shudder fearfully.

As it is, Marco only shrugs, moving to sit instead on the larger man's knee. "Right, gotcha," he says. He hears another chuckle above him, and feels a surge of love for the man he's followed for decades. Old though he may be, there's no one on these seas he'd rather pledge his allegiance to, no one else in the world he'd fight or die for, if given the chance.

(A terrified part of him knows he'll outlive his father. Another part of him, the part that dares to dream, prays otherwise.)

"By the way," Whitebeard says, and Marco shifts slightly to look up at him, "any ideas on the mystery behind the disappearing apples of this afternoon?"

Marco smirks. When he'd told the old man what had happened, everyone was afraid he'd cough up a lung with how hard he'd laughed; Thatch's pitiful expression hadn't helped matters much. He had agreed, however, that vanishing provisions was indeed a concern, but a mild one. It still bugs Marco, though, just a little, and it frustrates him more to shake his head. "Nothing yet," he admits, stroking his chin as his brows knit together in thought. "It clearly wasn't rats, not from the bite-marks we found, yoi. And a little while later, Arlo and Libby from Second Division came across a…ugh, a puddle of vomit down by third deck. Said it smelled like apples."

"That, I don't think I needed to hear," Whitebeard grimaces, holding up his tankard. "I'm still drinking, you know."

Marco has the grace to wince. "Sorry. I mean, it _could've_ been Stefan for all we know, but I don't think the dog's got a taste for apples, plus everyone would've seen him get into the barrel if it were him. Also…I'd feel kinda guilty putting all the blame on the dog, yoi."

"That's true, and commendable," Whitebeard nods with another grin. "Let's not focus on that for now, my boy. Any possible apple-stealing stowaways can be dealt with later. Go on and enjoy yourself; the night is young yet, and so are you."

"I'm thirty-eight, yoi."

Whitebeard shrugs. "Still younger than me. And as I've stated earlier, I'm the captain of this ship and your father, and as such, I order you to go and have fun."

Marco splutters. "What the – you can't _order_ me to –"

"Of course I can, I'm the captain."

"Why I oughta –"

" _Heyyy,_ Pops! Marco buddy!"

Before Marco can finish his retort, Thatch comes stumbling into view, an arm wrapped around an equally, heavily intoxicated Rakuyo, both of them grinning wide. They're red faced and giddy as schoolboys, and Marco fights the urge to pinch his brows and shake his head as Whitebeard looks at them once and laughs. If he could get grey hairs from annoyance alone…hell, he'd be all the way bald by now.

"Thatch," he groans, a long-suffering thing, but the chef beats him to the punch.

"Hey, Pops, why didn't you tell us you'd 'dopted such cute kids while we were gone?!" he accuses, but he's still grinning fit to burst.

Marco and Whitebeard share a look, frowning. "…cute kids?" Marco repeats, and Whitebeard shakes his head with a shrug of his giant shoulders. The first mate hops off the captain's knee, landing seamlessly on his feet, and folds his arms as he straightens and regards the drunken louts he calls his brothers. "What 'cute kids'?" he asks, and silently hopes it's a joke.

"Thatchy here was just tellin' me," Rakuyo says, thumping the chef of the back. "Told me 'bout the cute freckled kid 'e met! Seemed shy, but he'll find his feet eventually, we all did!" And then he laughs, loud and uproarious. Thatch wheezes back, and soon they're wobbling away, barely standing, joining in on a group singing Bink's Brew (a classic, a song of joy and mourning, and they dare butcher it with their squalling.)

Marco watches them go, wondering and praying all at once if what he'd just heard was real or not, until Whitebeard's booming voice diverts his thoughts. "Let them be, Marco," he says, taking another mighty belt of his rum. "I'd have recalled taking in any new sons or daughters. They're just a few sheets to the wind tonight." He pauses, blinks once and then looks down into his tankard, as though considering its half-empty contents swirling inside. "…come to think of it…so am I," he admits.

Marco splutters again. _"Pops!"_

(Marco is thus too busy attempting to convince his father to go the hell to bed before he drinks himself unconscious to notice the short, cloaked figure slinking away, crossing the deck and weaving through the bustling, dancing crowds and through the nearest door.)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N ~ Hello hello my freinds :) I know I keep saying this, but _thank you_ for the support, the reviews that lift my sprits, and to you, CanIHaveAHug, for letting me bounce ideas off you! You're a joy and wonder forever XD  
**

 **The part you've all been waiting for XD I OWN NOTHING, but let me know what y'all think :)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 _And you know I've been burned,_

 _You've seen me lose control._

* * *

Sabo can't help but whistle softly as he shuts the massive door behind him, incompatible eyes surveying their new, impermanent hiding place, illuminated by the lantern sitting on the desk. The room is wide and spacious, a loaded bookshelf on the right-hand side and the desk and a chest of drawers on the left, next to a _giant_ bed. It's bigger than any bed Sabo's ever seen, and almost as tall. It looks positively luxurious, the pillows bigger than Luffy, and the striking red blanket thick and soft.

Staring at it from the doorway, Sabo wants nothing more than to climb onto it, to curl up in the center like a cat and _sleep_ –

An excited giggle is his only warning, and then Luffy is no longer beside him, his wrist slipping from Sabo's slackened grip.

"Luffy, Luffy no –!" Sabo curses, reaching for and ultimately missing the boy as he dashes for the bed with more speed than Sabo expects from the twelve-year-old, clambering up the blanket and onto the plush surface, bouncing up and down with a manic grin on his face. Knowing that trying to get him down at this rate is a useless endeavor, and because hearing him laugh in delight is a wonder and joy he could never dream of putting a stop to no matter where they are, Sabo just sighs and lets Luffy play. _He'll exhaust himself soon enough_ , he thinks with a lenient smile.

Looking at the pre-teen now, the bed really is huge in comparison, at least five times the size of a regular person. Maybe it's for that big-ass dog they'd crossed earlier? No, no way, no one loves a dog _that_ much (unless you're among those of High Town, or just about any town in which the difference in class is obvious). And why put a desk and a bookshelf in a dog's room of all places? But there's no one else quite _this_ big on the ship, as far as Sabo knows from what they've seen of the crew until now.

Maybe – and he _shivers_ thinking about it – this is the captain's quarters? S-Surely not. The captain can't be _that_ big…

 _If they are,_ Sabo thinks, fingers folding into fists that shake only slightly, out of sight so that it might not spoil Luffy's fun, _and this_ _ **is**_ _their room…we're so unbelievably screwed._

He takes a breath, shaking his head. The noise outside the cabin shows no signs of dwindling any time soon. As long as no one decides to turn in early, they'll be safe in here. On the other hand, he needs to find Ace before he goes back down to the hold to find them gone. But he can't leave Luffy by himself, nor can he take him along for the search, certainly not the way he is now, shackled with sea stone.

Leaning against the bed, Sabo runs a hand through his tangled mess of blond, biting his lip. Luffy flops down on the mattress with a heavy sigh, full of content and happiness Sabo wishes he could indulge in.

 _What to do, what to do? We have_ _to find Ace, but I can't take Luffy. Is there anywhere here that he can hide until I get back? Maybe under the bed –?_

Something shuffles and stops just outside the door.

Sabo whirls. Luffy sits upright and freezes, silent and small on the bed, staring at the door with impossibly wide eyes.

Somebody's out there. And they know the room is occupied.

Sabo's mind reels, desperate and hopelessly afraid in ways he'd never been five years ago (ways he never _should_ be, he knows, but it's far too late to change that). The fifteen-year-old scans the room for a weapon, anything to defend him and Luffy with. All he sees are books on the shelf, medical machines and equipment (maybe this is a sick ward then?) that might just work, but the question is will he get to them in time before –

Something presses against the door, the wood creaking under their weight.

Luffy whimpers, and the change is immediate.

Something _clicks_ inside Sabo like switch at the sound. Something endlessly cold and merciless, ringing with _retribution_ and promise of an unkind fate, casts shadows over his narrowed eyes. Fear gives way to cool anger, a fierce protective drive that vows to _kill_ for the frightened boy behind him, no matter what or who comes through the door, whether he's armed or not, because _no one touches Luffy, no one touches my brothers, I'll_ _ **kill**_ _them if they try, I won't let them, not again –_

The door opens inch by inch, and a familiar head of raven pokes through the crack.

Silver eyes land on Sabo, and the cold, killing intent vanishes from the blond in an instant in the presence of his bewildered older brother.

A sigh of relief heaves from Sabo's very being as Ace splutters and quickly slips through the door, shutting it and dropping the delicious smelling sack on the floor, removing his hood. His eyes are wide, there's blood drying on his bottom lip and chin, but he's alive and _here_ and still in one piece.

Ace is here. He's here, he's safe, and…and Sabo had been _seconds_ from charging him and possibly injuring him, under the impression he was an intruder. _Oops._

(He'd thought it was normal; to become protective, cautious of anything that might hurt the ones you love. It's what had driven him to finally attack – and eventually kill – the guard that had _dared_ to lay his hands on his brother. But if a _whimper_ from Luffy can turn Sabo into…into the person who'd killed the guard, then maybe…maybe he's not as okay as he'd thought.

Especially not when such a mood can flip from the merciless protector to…the _other_ one, who'll bow his head like a dog and _beg,_ at a coin toss.)

"Sabo, Luffy – what the hell are you two _doing_ up here?" Ace whisper shouts, diverting Sabo's thoughts, and Luffy slides off the massive bed to join Sabo's side once more. "I told you to stay down in the hold until I got back!" he groans, pinching his brow with a sigh that shakes just barely, and though his eyes are blazing with mild annoyance, his shoulders are tense, hands bearing the slightest tremble, pupils dilated with an emotion all too familiar to them.

 _He's terrified._

Sabo trades a look with Luffy, the younger boy's eyes swirling with guilt. No doubt Ace had felt them with that strange 'sixth sense' as he passed the room and thought the worst, knowing there's no reason for them to leave the hold at all…unless they were forced, against their will, by a band of curious pirates that had discovered their stowaways. Guilt squeezes Sabo's heart. They'd had no choice but to leave, really, but even so…the terror in Ace's eyes is something he never wants to see, not again, for as long as he lives and breathes. That's why they'd left _that_ place, after all. To be free from fear.

"You're lucky I sensed you in here before I went back into the ship," Ace goes on, leveling them with a half glare that belies what flows off him in waves. "What were you _thinking,_ I thought for sure you were both –!"

Sabo charges Ace and throws his arms around his neck, shutting him up as he hides his face in the crook of his older brother's neck. Luffy joins him seconds later, crushing Ace's waist in an embrace no one could hope to break if they tried, his face buried in the folds of the stolen cloak.

Ace goes still, arms automatically coming to wrap around them. Luffy sniffles against his chest, and his brain finally seems to connect with the rest of him. "Hey," he whispers, holding them closer, tighter. Even without his devil fruit, his embrace is warmth and fiery love incarnate, and Sabo basks in its glow, burrowing deeper against him. "Hey, it's okay. I'm – I'm not _mad_ at you guys or anything, I'm just…I thought…"

"We know," Sabo says, muffled against Ace's neck. He draws back, offering the older an apologetic smile. "We were forced to leave when two pirates came down looking for something –"

" _What?!"_

 _"Shh!"_ Sabo flaps a panicked hand in Ace's face, and Luffy releases his waist to slap his hands over Ace's gaping mouth with what might be a glare but looks like a pout. The sight they make and Ace's expression as he stares at Luffy are hilarious, but being discovered is less so.

"Yes," the blond continues, decibels softer, "pirates showed up, but Lu and I managed to slip away. We're not hurt, we weren't spotted. We're _fine,_ Ace. Really. But for what it's worth, we're sorry. For worrying you," he adds with a shrug and a crooked smile. Luffy releases Ace's mouth and steps back, nodding in agreement, looking small and meek as he shuffles where he stands, fingers laced behind his back.

Ace looks between them, eyes lingering on Luffy a moment longer, and he sighs again. He scrubs a tired hand over his eyes. "It's fine," he says eventually, drawing Luffy in for another hug which the boy has no qualms returning tenfold. He gives Sabo a smile that's weary beyond his years, reaching out with the hand not stroking Luffy's hair to clap him on the shoulder. "You made the right call, Sabo, don't apologize for that. Guess I'm just…tense, y'know? We're on a _pirate_ ship, for god's sake. But...you're both okay, though. And that's all that matters to me."

Clasping the hand over his shoulder, Sabo leans forward to press his forehead against Ace's, sandwiching a grinning Luffy between them. "Glad you're okay too, big brother," he says. Ace smiles back, a little weak, but there all the same.

And then Sabo decides to address the elephant in the room. "What happened to your lip?"

Ace jolts, smile falling, stepping back; Luffy, still clinging to him like a limpet, goes with him with a muffled snicker. Ace's hand goes to where the blood has long dried and flecked off the pale skin of his chin, the center of his lip bruised and red, though there's little swelling. "I – I, uh," he stammers, looking for an excuse he _must_ know Sabo will see through like glass. Grey eyes dart every which way, completely avoiding Sabo's suspicious gaze. "I…I bit my lip by accident while I was eating a sausage I stole from the buffet."

…actually, Sabo can believe that. Well, the part where he'd pinched a sausage for himself. Everything else is lies.

Sabo narrows his eyes, and Ace continues to innocently ignore him, now messing with Luffy's hair and showing the utterly delighted boy what he'd managed to steal from the party. Something had happened out there. Something _bad_ , resulting in that _godawful_ coping mechanism his idiot brother has developed to keep himself even slightly sane (or saner than Sabo, anyway.)

(And of course, because said idiot refuses to ask for help, refuses to let his brothers in on his fears and weaknesses, refuses to understand just how much he's loved and worried over by the two people he'll gladly give his everything to protect, he says nothing, just like always. Not since they were taken. Not since the first time he'd been 'groomed'. Not since Mei…)

Sabo sighs softly, watching Ace try and fail to keep Luffy's hungry maw at bay while he splits the food equally for the three of them and still have enough left for later. He knows his brother well enough; he won't talk about it, no matter how much Sabo pesters. He'll keep his pain, his tears, all locked within him only to turn it into an inferno of rage and hatred to protect himself and them when the time comes. And it will come, it always does. The three of them have never been that lucky.

Sabo hopes – _prays_ – that one day his big brother will _talk_ to him, let him _help,_ lean on him and Luffy the way he's always let them. But until then, all Sabo can do is let it go, smile, and join his brothers on the floor to eat, _finally_ , and stay under the noses of their 'chaperons' a little while longer.

He's confident, though, despite their close calls in the last hour or so. The crew is larger than any Sabo has ever seen or heard of, but they don't seem to be the most observant.

 _We'll be fine,_ he thinks as he slaps Luffy's wandering hands away from his sausage and pulling a face when Luffy glares at him with a pout. _We'll be just fine._

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Luffy can't remember the last time he'd eaten real _meat,_ and not the thin, rubbery kind that the guards fed them, leftovers from the royals' meals. Ace had managed to find the _good_ stuff, the kind that Makino used to serve them at her bar, the kind that he and his brothers would hunt in the jungle for and cook up with Dadan and the bandits back on Mount Corvo. The fact that pirates even have this sort of meat on board, all the way out here on the vast, open seas of the Grand Line, makes a part of Luffy that had dared to dream love pirates a little bit more all over again.

The meat is hot, juicy, _delicious,_ and the array of sweets remind Luffy of the treats Makino would let them pinch for themselves and the bandits, remind him of home. He's not aware he's crying at all until Sabo is reaching out to wipe the tears off his cheeks with gentle hands. Not that Sabo is much better off.

He doesn't remember falling asleep after eating his fill. He _does_ remember the feeling of being picked up and held against a solid chest, hair tickling his nose where his chin rests atop a firm shoulder – Ace, then, because his hair is longer than Sabo's and not as curly – and then his stomach doing flips (a very _bad_ thing after a meal) as Ace started climbing up a plush surface, cursing under his breath when he occasionally slipped.

When he opens his eyes again, reluctantly, the room is pitch dark. He's lying flat on the bed, surrounded by the warmth of his brothers' sleeping bodies under the folds of the giant blanket. Ace holds him close to his chest, tucking Luffy's head under his chin, his other hand clenching Sabo's sleeve where the blond lies curled up behind Luffy, his arm snaked under Luffy's waist. Their breaths are soft, even. They've been out for a while, it seems.

Shifting carefully, Luffy wriggles an arm from where it's squished against his chest and raises it, brushing his fingers over Ace's bottom lip; the swelling's gone down now, and the blood is all gone, washed away with the water Ace had brought. That's good.

 _Stop hurting yourself like this. Dummy._

Luffy lowers his hand and curls his fingers into the tatty fabric of Ace's shirt, right over the older boys' heart. It thumps steadily under his palm, and it's an instant comfort. As is Sabo's sudden shifting as he cuddles closer against Luffy's back, nosing his hair and mumbling in his sleep.

 _This is good,_ Luffy thinks with a smile that might be dopey, sleepy as he is. _This is good. This is right. This is safe._

Safety isn't something he's felt these last five years, not truly. The closest he's ever gotten is right here, in the circle of his brothers' sleeping embrace. The nightmares nor the world or its cruel hands can touch him here. Ace and Sabo won't let them.

(Luffy resents it, sometimes, the lengths he knows they'll go to ensure his safety, his comfort, keep what's left of his innocence and sanity. He resents it, appreciates it, _loves_ and _hates_ them deeply for it, and such mixed-up emotions and feelings make him want to cry.)

As it is, however, he's too tired to do anything but burrow a little deeper into his brother, soak in the love and comfort they project in waves even in their sleep, close his eyes and drift off. And eventually, he does so.

He doesn't dream, and he's somewhat grateful for it. Not all of his dreams are nice these days.

He wakes _again,_ though briefly, at a foreign sound.

His brain is drugged with sleep, unfocused, his senses a haze of fog that he barely feels the vibrations of footsteps drawing closer to the giant bed, doesn't feel the dip in the mattress when something eases their weight onto it. Another noise – a soft grunt, confused, followed by a low chuckle that rumbles like thunder yet emanates warmth like the sun's rays, like Ace's hugs or Sabo's kisses in his hair. It almost reminds him of Grandpa.

"Good boy, Stefan," a voice says, a smile in his gruff voice, filled with warmth. "You can sleep here for now. I don't want any drool on my good pillows come morning, though."

A gentle weight presses down over the three of them, once, twice, like a pat to the head. It's…nice, Luffy thinks absently. A far contrast to the degrading touches and scorn-driven fists he's grown used to.

The weight vanishes all too soon, and Luffy immediately misses it. The…whatever it is, settles into the bed with them on Ace's side. Something clicks, and machinery starts to whir. Soft snores quickly follow.

Luffy's eyelids grow ever heavier. Whatever or whoever this new presence is, it doesn't project danger or any sort of threat, not like _they_ had, not like the pirates milling around the ship do. If anything, it's soothing. A solid, _strong_ aura, smoothing over his nerves like a cool balm, and it's so easy to drift off into another dreamless, peaceful sleep, knowing that he's well and truly safe.

His brothers surround him, and this looming, comforting presence shields them from anything and everything outside the realm of sleep.

 _I hope it never goes away…_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Waking up with a mild hangover, Edward muses, is not quite the best way to start the morning, or any morning really.

There's a light but constant throbbing right behind his eyes that he knows won't go away until much later, and his bones creak in protest as he sits up in his bed, fighting back a yawn. The nurses, and Marco, will no doubt get on his case for this again, especially after Marco's constant warnings. The joys of being old and having your children constantly worry over you, he muses.

All things considered however, his morning is not at all ruined by this prospect, and a smile finds his lips as he casts his gaze to the porthole at his door, daylight filtering through the glass in lovely rays of gold. Gulls are screeching in the clear, blue skies, and already he can hear his sons and daughters milling about the ship, starting the day as they head to the mess hall; some are chipper and strangely sober despite last night's party, while others are not quite so lucky. He chuckles when he hears a pitiful groan from Julie of Fifth Division as she passes his door, wishing she hadn't challenged Vista to a drinking game.

He chuckles to himself. A foolish dream his dream may be to many, but it's taken beautiful shape in the last few decades. He's grateful, eternally so, to have lived this long, to watch his family grow to its current size and no doubt continue to grow. A little while longer is all he asks for, to spend more time on the open seas, his family at his back.

Well, no reason for him to sit on his arse and ponder on such things much longer. There's much to do today, hangover or no, and the Grand Line waits for no one. They need to set a course for Sabaody Archipelago soon and return to the New World. Marines in Paradise get ridiculously paranoid when big shots like Whitebeard linger for too long.

He makes to get up, and a quiet snore stops him short. Quirking a brow, he turns to his left, where the big lump from last night remains. Ah yes, Stefan had decided to make himself at home here last night. No doubt to hide from the ruckus he and his children were making till the early hours of the morning.

Edward chuckles again. "Come on, old boy. Time to get up," he says, reaching down for his boots at the foot of his bed and his captain's coat hanging by the headrest. He pulls them on, ready to face the morning anew. He stands (damn these old bones to hell) and looks back down at the bed. Stefan doesn't seem to have moved at all. In fact, he's still asleep.

Edward frowns, a little baffled. Stefan may be old, but even he jumps up at the sound of his master's voice (then again so do most people; he does have quite the booming voice.) Perhaps Edward's not the only one who feels off this morning. Poor old boy.

He sits back down on the edge of the bed, reaching over to pull back the sheet. "Come now, Stefan. No time to be lazy when there's work to –"

Edward freezes.

That's not Stefan. That's not even a _dog_.

In his bed, curled up more like kittens in their mothers' nest, are not one, but _three human children_ , sleeping away and snoring lightly in the shelter of Edward's blanket, arms and legs intertwined, faces lax in their blissfully ignorant slumber.

Edward stares.

He sets the blanket back over them, looks at the opposite wall, closes his eyes and counts to ten.

(There are no children in his bed. He's still hungover, still tired, and he's just seeing things. He'll open his eyes in the next three seconds, and a dog will be there instead. All will be well.)

He opens his eyes and lifts the blanket again. The sleeping kids are still here.

 _Oh sweet mother sea._

Turning away and dropping the blanket, Edward pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a heavy sigh, shaking his head. Surely, he's simply hallucinating, going senile in his old age. Surely _,_ he hadn't been drunk enough to miss the presence of three people in his room when he'd decided to turn in. _Surely,_ he hasn't been sharing a bed with three _literal children_ the whole damn night. A pirate he may be, but this is inappropriate on _so_ many levels, not to mention incredibly daunting and dangerous – what if he'd rolled over and squashed them during the night?! –

To make matters worse, he has no idea who they are; considering that he knows all of his children by name, this is _incredibly_ perplexing.

 _'Calm yourself, Newgate,'_ he inwardly scolds. _'See what you're up against before you throw a fit'._

He takes another breath and turns, looking down at his sleeping…guests.

There are indeed three of them, two older boys with a much smaller boy cuddled between them in a protective embrace. The smallest has a thatch of messy dark hair, a scar running under his left eye, no doubt left by a blade. The one on his left _might_ be a blond or a brunette (his curly hair is too dirty to properly tell), and has burns cascading the left side of his face and some of his left arm. The last one, slightly broader than the other two, has wavy dark hair and a decoration of freckles along his cheeks that strikes Edward with an odd pang of familiarity that he can't quite place.

They're young, he notes, between thirteen and ten at least judging by their size. And they're _thin,_ too, far too thin for Edward's liking; their clothes (if such ratty things can even be _considered_ that) hang off them like sacks when really it should fit boys their ages snugly. Their cheeks are hallowed, the bags under their eyes like bruises on their pale skin…and that's not counting the actual bruises he can spot dotting their arms and faces, peeking under the folds of the rags. They're filthy, too, like they haven't bathed in days.

And then there's the cuffs on the ankles of the smallest and the freckled boy, staining the pale flesh of the exposed skin. They reek of sea stone.

Edward doesn't know these brats, but he's old and has lived more than long enough to know a certain lifestyle when he sees it, and rage begins to bubble within him.

 _Slaves._

It appears he's found their apple-stealing stowaways. And, apparently, the 'new recruit' Thatch had bumped into last night during the festivities.

How they've managed to evade detection from his entire crew and himself is beyond impressive, he must admit. But now there's the issue concerning what it is he's to do with them now that he's discovered them. Waking them doesn't seem to be the best option, for he might scare them otherwise; he has no intention of harming them, knowing what he does, but they won't know that.

Too busy contemplating, he doesn't notice the littlest one stirring until he's moving to sit up.

Edward freezes, feeling too much like a deer caught in torchlight, as the little boy rubs his eyes and then stretches with a yawn, wide and loud. His lanky arms flop to the mattress as he smacks his lips, staring blearily into nothing. Half-lidded eyes cast about the cabin before landing on Edward's large hand resting beside the freckled lad. The boy follows the arm up and up, until he's staring Edward in the face.

Edward stares back, not having felt so wrong-footed since Marco's teenage years, utterly clueless as to what the hell he should do. He settles for keeping still, not moving an inch.

The boy woozily blinks at him once, twice, three times. And then he flops backwards onto the mattress, snoring once more.

Edward blinks rapidly. Well…that was rather anticlimactic.

Still, at least now that he's well and truly asleep again, it gives the old pirate time to think, to plan. Perhaps he can quickly fetch Marco and Thatch – two average looking men, one cool-headed and the other incredibly good with children, having been the eldest of nine siblings. They'll do a much better job of handling this particular situation…not that Edward is a _coward_ with children, heavens no –

There's a sudden but familiar _zap_ of energy in the air that gives Edward pause – _haki?_ – and the boy's eyes snap open. The little one _leaps_ upright again and stares Edward in the face, brown eyes impossibly wide, awake, and full of what Edward had wanted to avoid – _fear._

 _Uh oh._

The boy starts to tremble all over like a new-born deer, pupils dilating, fingers digging into the fabric of the freckled boys' shirt until his knuckles are as deathly white as his face, jaw hanging open like a waiting flytrap. No sound leaves the gaping maw aside from a choked sort of gasp like that of a dying fish. No screaming or tears is a good thing, though, and Edward wants to keep it that way. But he's not quite sure how. This is the first time in quite a while that someone has been _this_ afraid of him, or since he's interacted with anyone below the age of seventeen.

 _But this boy was a slave,_ he remembers grimly. _Slaves are taught to fear anything, everything, and anyone regardless._

Reaching out or moving at all is a _very bad thing_ for a man his size. So he does the best (and _only_ ) thing he can do and offers the frightened little one a warm smile. "Hello there."

The boy promptly **_shrieks._**

It's an incredibly loud, high-pitched sound that grates on even Edward's old ears, and he rears back in a rare bout of shock. _The pipes on this child, gracious!_

His screaming of course wakes the other two – or rather they spring to attention, eyes wide and wild, limbs flailing. The freckled one instantly reaches for their screaming little one, and the moment his hands cup his cheeks, the moment his face blocks Edward from his view, the screaming stops (thank the seas), but instead gives way to ragged, heaving pants for breath as he scrambles for the other with shaking limbs, eyes welling up. The two surround him like mother wolves over their cub, paying Edward no mind. He doubts they yet know he's even here.

"Luffy! Luffy, shh, it's okay, we've got you," the freckled one says, stroking the little one's – Luffy's – dampening cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in a tender fashion that admittedly melts the old pirate's heart.

"Easy, little brother, _easy._ What happened?" asks the blond, mismatched eyes full of love and concern for the hyperventilating child as he rubs circles against his back – and they're bothers, eh? How curious, and delightful.

Luffy pulls back from the freckled one's chest and points a quivering finger at Edward. The older two turn once to look, and then do a double-take, eyes the size of dinner plates, seeing the giant man that is Edward Newgate for the first time. The color drains rapidly from their faces.

Unlike their little brother, they don't hesitate to start screaming bloody murder.

Edward winces slightly, eardrums rattling.

(This isn't doing his headache, or the situation, any favors.)

The children, still screaming, scramble away from Edward, which results in them tumbling over the edge of the bed and landing on the floorboards in a tangle of limbs. Edward sighs and calmly stands, hands by his sides, doing his damn best to appear as nonthreatening as possible. A vain effort, but still, he tries.

The boys find their feet quickly, and the blond immediately puts Luffy behind him, letting the boy grip and tug his shirt tight as he faces Edward with a chilling glare that could freeze hellfire, despite the thrumming undercurrent of terror. Surprise has already claimed the old captain when the freckled one stands in front of them both, brandishing what looks like one of his old IV's, which the boy snaps in half and points the jagged metal end at the veteran pirate.

Where there's ice in the blonde's eyes, a blistering fire rages in the silver pair that glower at Edward, fire that _dares_ him to take a single step closer.

 _These boys are something else,_ he muses, fighting a grin, and he steps closer.

The boy charges him with a yell of rage, weapon raised to stab the nearest limb. Edward reaches down and grabs the weapon between his thumb and forefinger with ease, halting the boy in his tracks. To his surprise, the lad puts up a brief but valiant struggle to keep his weapon; he may be small and may look physically weak and starved, but he's got a hell of a grip, and more than enough fight left in him to even _think_ about charging a man at least five times his size.

Edward feels a swell of pride for a boy he doesn't even know, even as he plucks the weapon from his hands and discards it across the floor, out of reach. "That's enough of that, boy," he says. "There's no need to fight. I'm not going to hurt you."

He gets a nasty growl in response even as the boy backs up, arms spread, and he keeps going until the blond and Luffy are stuck between the wall and the freckled lad himself, shielding them with his own body.

Edward regards them, feels the weight of their aura pressing down on him, filling the room. His will far surpasses theirs, he knows, but it's an impressive feat nevertheless. There's still a fight in all of them; in the brutal cold glare of the blond, even in the wide, frightened browns of Luffy's gaze peeking from the solid arms wrapped around him.

They're raggedy little brats, almost savage in their desperation. Edward likes them.

Still, it won't do to have them keep attacking him.

He watches the sneering boy and his charges a moment longer, weighing his options. Clearly, they believe he's going to harm them, maybe kill them, regardless of what he says. The last thing he wants is to inadvertently prove them right. He also has no desire to be bitten or clawed at – they're not feral, but Edward has an inkling they're not above the action.

Brows furrowing in thought, his eyes drift back to his unmade bed. He looks at the pillows for a moment. He looks back at the boys, then the pillows, then the boys again. "Hmm…"

Blinking hard, the brats mimic him in unison, looking at the pillows and then the larger pirate with confused, cautious frowns. It's almost cute.

"Perhaps we should try something different," Edward muses pleasantly, reaching for a pillow and taking out the fluffy stuffing. He smiles at the boys.

Realization hits them, and as one they _blanch_.

" _Eeep,"_ the blond squeaks.

* * *

 **Cliff hanger XD**

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N ~ Hello! This chapter gave me _HELL!_ I couldn't write it the way I wanted to, my brain wouldn't let me! It drove me mad, and I'm still not quite happy with it DX But because of the amount of follows and faves this is getting (and the reviews, lord y'all kill me XD), I decoded to stay up all night to post it for you :) Thanks again to the wonderful CanIHaveAHug, hope you're doing okay hon ^_^**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 _It's not worth, it's not worth, it's not worth_

 _My soul._

* * *

 _It's been maybe a month since they were taken from Dawn island. Luffy misses it more and more every day._

 _He misses the heat of the sun on his face, the feel of grass under his feet, the wind brushing through his hair when he'd climb up high in their tree house. He misses Makino and her bar, her laughter and hugs, and Mr. Mayor and his dumb lectures. He misses Dadan and her bandits, for all that they'd had no interest raising them (at first, anyway.) He misses Grandpa. He misses his freedom._

 _Here, in the stone cold, whitewashed walls of the castle, far away from everything he knows and loves and cherishes – he wonders what became of his hat, his treasure, his gift and promise to Shanks, when it'd been torn off his head, forced from its string, and discarded to the forest floor when the men had grabbed him and gagged him – there's no sign of that freedom he'd admittedly taken for granted, the freedom he and his brothers had wanted to achieve when they set out to sea to become pirates one day._

 _Here, they clothe them in rags. Here, they lock them in windowless cells every night. Here, they put them in chains and set them to work, no matter how cold or dark or damp or hard it is._

 _And here, Luffy is quick to learn, slaves are not allowed to speak outside of their cells._

 _The princess, a snobby girl with bright red hair, a hooked nose and narrow eyes gleaming with undisguised glee, had wanted Luffy as her_ pet. _Luffy had no idea what that entailed, but he knows how_ wrong _it is. And yet, no one bats an eye, telling her 'yes' without pause._

 _The moment they're bought, she has two guards grab him and drag him by the chains binding his wrists, away from his brothers screaming after him, and taken to her bedroom. He struggles and cries the whole time. He doesn't stop until the guards throw him to the floor and kick him, punch him, telling him to "shut up with your blubbering! The princess has no desire to listen to such noise! And clean your face, urchin!" Still sniffling, Luffy holds his sobs back, pressing his lips together hard._

 _The princess waltzes in shortly after, a maid two steps behind her, holding what looks like a bedazzled collar on a white pillow. Luffy's stomach churns with impending dread._

 _She stops in front of Luffy, beaming down at him, gloved hands on her hips. Luffy decides he hates her, long before she orders the guards to hold him so she can wind the collar around his neck. And it's_ _ **tight,**_ _so tight that he's can barely breathe as he tugs at it in a futile attempt to loosen it. He gets smacked upside the head for it as they clip a chain onto it, handing it to the princess to hold, like a leash._

 _(If he still had his gum-gum powers – the thing around his ankle makes him weak and normal, the same way water does when he falls in the river or even takes a bath – breathing might be easier. As it is, he might pass out.)_

 _"Teeheehee! What a cute little pet! Mother and father always get me the most adorable slaves!" the princess coos, delighted. "I think I'll call you…Spot! Yes, Spot will do!"_

'Spot?! I don't even have a spot on me!' _Luffy thinks, and glares at the back of her head when she turns and orders the guards and her maid to leave her. They take their leave without a word, shutting the door behind them. Luffy is alone, with a crazy girl who thinks she has the right, the_ _ **balls,**_ _to treat him like an animal._

 _(He's scared. He wants Ace and Sabo, wants to know where they are, if they're safe, if they're already planning to escape and will find him soon. But more than anything, he's angry. More than anything, he wants to punch this snotty little brat in the face –)_

 _"Stop that growling!" She tugs hard at his chain, and the collar seems to tighten as Luffy jerks forward, nearly falling face first to the carpet. He struggles to take even half a breath, vision blurring at the edges. "Good pets don't growl, or cry, or speak!" she goes on, and another tug forces his head upwards to look at her as she leans in close, a sneer creasing her ugly features. "I don't_ ever _want to hear a sound from you! You're very cute compared to my last pets, but if you don't behave then I'll gladly have you put down just like them!"_

 _Put down? Does she mean…?_

 _Luffy knows he's stronger than this, stronger than a gutless twig like her. He could stand, punch her lights out and escape this room, hide until his brothers find him. Or…he_ would, _if he could breathe. If he still had his powers. If she didn't have time to scream for help before he could shut her up._

 _For now, there's nothing he can do. For now, he struggles to his feet and trails behind her as she gleefully skips out of her room, claiming she's going to take her new 'pet' on a walk around the castle. He complies in silence, praying and hoping beyond hope that Ace and Sabo will figure something out. Preferably before he suffocates._

 _A week passes. He cries once, when she tugs too hard and the pain and fear of suffocation is too much to bear. He's whipped for it and slips into unconsciousness with tears running down his face. He wakes up in their cell much later, blood seeping through the bandages around his waist and shoulders, his brothers' faces looming over him; fear and tears are bright in Sabo's eyes as he hushes Luffy's agonized whimpers and holds him, burning anger and hate searing Ace's. All because Luffy had cried._

 _So Luffy stops crying. Or if he does, he bites his tongue and does it quietly. It keeps the princess happy, leaves his brothers with less for them to worry about._

 _He soon finds that because of this, he speaks less in general. It becomes a_ habit _to keep silent, a habit he has no idea is manifesting until Sabo mentions one night how quiet he's been around them lately, even in the rare privacy they receive in their cell. Luffy laughs it off, but inwardly trembles._

 _(It's nothing, surely.)_

 _Another week passes with little incident. And another, and another. Soon, two months have passed._

 _Luffy has endured the princess and her antics long enough._

 _He's sick of being quiet, sick of bowing his head, sick of watching his brothers get more and more worried when he doesn't talk because his throat hurts from the collar or because he's too paranoid to even cough in fear of a beating, sick of watching her bully the other slaves into crying out in pain when she kicks and smacks them and then has them punished for making noises, sick of walking behind her on a chain she_ won't stop **tugging –**

 _Luffy watches her now as she's giggling manically and kicking at Ace as he's scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees; Luffy knows any other day, in any other situation, the princess would be unconscious or maybe dead by now. As it is, Ace simply takes every kick with gritted teeth, passive in a way Luffy has never known him to be._

 _She shoves him so that he knocks into the bucket and spills water all over the tiled floors. "Oh dear," she gasps, feigning surprise, "look what you've done! Now you're going to have to go all the way back to the kitchens and get some more water to clean the floors! Teeheehee~!"_

 _Luffy can't take it anymore. He looks at the resignation in Ace's face, the hate building behind his eyes even as he obediently stands to go fetch the water, and he_ _ **snaps.**_

 _"STOP BULLYING MY BROTHER YOU STUPID BITCH!"_

Silence.

 _Ace whips his head around to look at Luffy with wide eyes, horror etched in every line of his paling, freckled face. Other slaves and servants cleaning the ballroom turn to stare as well, terror in their gazes and trembling limbs. The princess doesn't move._

 _Luffy doesn't care. He's had enough of keeping his silence, enough of being afraid, enough of this spoiled brat and her whims and her annoying little laugh and – and_ _ **everything.**_ _She can't get away with this, she_ won't –

 _Slowly, the princess turns. Luffy blinks, almost flinches, at the expression on her face, one he's never seen, not on her. It's…scary, actually. The hand holding the end of his chain tightens, knuckles turning white._

 _"What did you say to me?" she whispers, her voice and fists quaking with rage._

 _Luffy blinks again, swallows, sweat gathering across his forehead. His eyes slide over to Ace, standing behind her. His face is ashen, hands trembling at his sides. Luffy has never seen his brother so afraid, not even against the Bluejam pirates, not even when they were taken from Dawn. He looks back at the princess, watching as her face begins to burn a furious red, and realizes, remembers, far too late –_

'She _can_ get away with it. She can have me killed. She's gonna kill me. I'm gonna die.'

 _"Your highness!" Four guards come rushing into the ballroom at once, shattering the silence so harshly that everyone in the wide room jumps – all but the princess, still holding Luffy's eyes with her poisonous glare. "Your highness, are you alright?" one of them asks, looking between her and Luffy. "We heard someone shout, is everything okay?"_

 _The princess finally blinks, looks Luffy up and down, considering. Luffy feels his heart drop into his stomach when her face, slowly, breaks into a smile so sinister it reminds him of Bluejam…no…not even Bluejam was_ this _evil. This girl smiles like a demon._

 _She spins on her heel. "Guards!" she cries, false tears in her quivering voice, and the armoured men snap to attention. "I have been verbally abused! A-A filthy, rotten little_ slave _h-has dared to call me – c-call me a –!" She bursts into heaving sobs so fake it couldn't fool a dog._

 _But it's enough to have the guards immediately turn on Luffy, retribution in their hardened eyes. Luffy quivers where he stands, fighting tears –_

"It was me!"

 _Luffy's heart seizes, skips a beat._

 _Even the princess shuts up in surprise, and they all turn to Ace, standing tall, fists at his sides, glaring at the guards with his head held high. The fear Luffy had seen minutes earlier is gone, as though it had never been there at all, his stance sure and steady like that of a man prepared for battle. "It was me," he repeats without hesitation, defiance in the glow of his silver eyes. "I shouted at the princess. I shouted at her and called her a bitch!"_

 _The guards gasp, horrified._

 _Luffy doesn't even spare them a glance. He stares at Ace, jaw agape, tears filling his eyes, blood running cold through his veins. Ace doesn't look at him once, jaw locked, eyes fixed on the guards. The clenched fist twitches at his side._

No.

 _Luffy blinks, and suddenly, the room is spinning. His heart pounds like a drum in his ears, blocking out everything and everyone except his brother. He watches, helplessly, as two guards surround Ace, grab him by the arms and his hair and drag him away. Ace doesn't fight back._

No, no, wait, _please –_

 _Luffy blinks, and suddenly he's on the floor, pinned down by the other two guards, one arm reaching out for Ace's disappearing form. He might be screaming, might be crying, struggling, but he still can't hear over the pounding his heart, the throbbing behind his skull where the guard had hit him, can't see through the torrent of tears clouding his vision._

Not him, please, not my brother, I'm sorry I'm sorry I won't do it again I promise I'm sorry please _please_ _ **please –**_

 _The last thing he sees is the princess looking down at him, a smug, truly wicked grin on her face as she giggles behind her hand, and then there's only darkness._

 _Please…I'm sorry…not him…please…_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

It's fair to say that Marco's feathers are quite (figuratively and… _ugh,_ literally) ruffled by the time he reaches the quarter deck at a brisk stride, Thatch and Namur not far behind as they head for the captain's cabin. Already, the rest of their commanders and a few division members are crowding around the door, murmuring among themselves. Worry and confusion is more than apparent; he can feel it, smell it, in the air.

Izo is the first to notice them, and he turns on his heel with a swish of his lavish robes. His features, tight with concern, are barren of his usual (and very expensive) makeup, meaning he'd been in the middle of his morning routine before…well, whatever this is, happened.

"Took you fools long enough," he greets, nodding to Thatch and Namur. "I'd figured you'd have been the first up here, Marco."

"Guess I can't always be the early bird, yoi," Marco admits with a shrug, vehemently ignoring the childish snickers from Thatch and everyone else who heard him. God, he hates his siblings sometimes, but damn if the puns they spew at him on sight aren't contagious as hell. "Any idea what's going on? We felt… _something,_ a 'zap', if you will, and a whole lot of screaming."

"We were all down in Second Division when we heard it. Sounded like someone was getting murdered or something," Thatch adds with a frown, the sliver of discontent belying the casual set of his posture as he peers over the dozens of heads surrounding Pop's door.

Izo hums in agreement, taking out one of his many intricate fans from the folds of his robes and unfurling it with a snap. "We have no clue what's going on. No one's gone in yet to check on Pops, and since the screaming stopped a few minutes ago we've heard nothing." The cross-dresser frowns. "It's quite unnerving."

"You're telling me," Haruta mutters, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Then he blinks, hard, and Marco sees the sudden spike of trepidation in him as he looks up and meets Izo's gaze. "You don't think someone snuck aboard last night and…?"

"Not likely," says Kingdew, the man towering over the rest of them with his impressive height, eyes narrowed at the door and his arms folded. "I was on watch last night after the celebrations wound down. Being sober, I would have clearly seen any trespassers attempting to board the Moby, and there are no ships or boats nearby."

Marco has to agree. And even if Kingdew were not as sober as he claims (to be honest, who was?), Marco had made a few rounds himself during the night; due to his powers, he can't get drunk, and getting past the natural senses of a sober phoenix _and_ a master Haki user would be like trying to infiltrate Impel Down or Marineford; incredibly difficult and rather stupid. But not impossible, he admits.

"In that case, do you think it was the stowaways you guys were raving about yesterday?" Jiru asks. "The ones who stole the apples?"

"And then puked them back up in the hallways?" Vista adds with a disgusted shudder as he twirls his mustache around one finger. "Possibly…but why would they be in Pops' room of all places?"

"Can't we just knock on and ask already?" Rakuyo says, running an agitated hand through his hair. "Standing around like idiots ain't doing us any –"

Sudden footsteps, rushed and heavy, thump from inside the cabin. Everyone stops, listens, leaning forward. There's banging, a crash or two –

 ** _"EEEEEEEE –!"_**

– and then everyone present cringes at a high-pitched, ear-piercing _scream_ that suddenly cuts off with a muffled yelp – a few muffled yelps, actually. Then, more silence.

Everyone stares, wide-eyed and a little disturbed.

Rakuyo blinks. "What the f –?"

They jump again when the handle turns and Whitebeard steps out of his room at last, shutting the door behind him. He pauses, looks over his shoulder to see them all gawking, and looks as surprised to see them as they are to see him. But he's quick to smile, as always. "Good morning, my sons," he greets, turning to face them proper. "What brings you all out here?"

"Pops, are you alright, yoi?" Marco blurts before he can help it, looking his father up and down in search for an injury of any kind. The man may have a reputation, but he's still a man, and an old one at that. The first mate has every right to worry. "We heard screaming and –"

He pauses, as do the rest of the commanders and ship siblings, when his eyes land on what their captain holds aloft, tight in his grasp.

Another silence, this one slightly awkward.

Eventually, it's Blenheim who speaks first, pointing at what hangs in Whitebeard's grip. "Is…is that your pillowcase, Pop?" he asks.

"Indeed it is, son," the old pirate replies, calm as anything. They all take a moment to stare at what is, indeed, Pop's giant pillowcase, the opening tied shut in a knot to contain…whatever the hell seems to be _squirming_ inside, flailing and kicking madly, little muffled grunts of effort coming from within, accompanied by muffled curses…wait – _curses?!_

 _"Are there_ _ **people**_ _in there?!"_ Thatch, Haruta and Namur squawk in harmony, pointing at the pillowcase. They, and the rest of the commanders and their fellow wide-eyed crew-mates, follow Whitebeard like a trail of ducklings as he makes his way to the quarter deck, squirming pillowcase in hand.

"Indeed there are," Whitebeard says, and the man is _still_ smiling, like this is all far too funny to him when it really shouldn't be. Marco, of course, is not laughing, not in the slightest. "I believe I've discovered our thieving stowaways," the old captain continues, "three of them, in fact. I caught them earlier, sleeping in my bed of all places."

Another silence, this one utterly _mortified_.

"Come again?" Thatch eventually squeaks. Marco would be lying if he said he (or anyone for that matter) aren't either blushing madly or feeling…well, frankly, a little ill.

The captain looks at his crowd and finally decides to have mercy on them, but that doesn't stop him from chuckling heartily. "I'll explain everything in a moment. For now, I need Marco, Thatch, Jozu, Haruta, Izo and Fossa to join me in Navigation as quickly as possible. The rest of you, keep the crew occupied and away from the room until I give the order. I deem it wise that we address this…" he side-eyes his fussing cargo, "… _issue_ between the seven of us for now. I don't want them to feel anymore trapped than they are at present with too many people in one room."

Despite their curiosity and overall confusion over this… _unusual_ matter, the other commanders are quick to heed Pop's orders and start steering nosy crew-mates back, leaving the named commanders to follow their captain to the navigation room.

Along the way, Marco casts his father a look. "I understand the need for privacy, but they're trespassers," he reasons, his voice low. "They have every reason to feel trapped for boarding our ship and stealing from us, yoi. Why take measures to make them feel comfortable?"

Whitebeard's smile falls. Immediately a bad sign, and something foreboding settles in Marco's gut as the old captain looks down and meets his eye.

And that's when Marco sees it – _that_ look, _that_ angry spark in those golden eyes that Marco remembers from what feels like lifetimes ago. The look that preluded the downfall of an entire kingdom in a single day…

"I got a good look at these brats, Marco," Whitebeard says gravely, an undercurrent of fury in his rumbling tone. "I don't like what I saw."

Dread coils anew in Marco's chest and squeezes tight, a familiar feeling he'd thought he'd banished long ago, along with the memories…the _scars…_

 _He can't mean…_

But he has no more time to dwell. Before he knows it, they've shut the door behind them, and he's standing in Navigation. He blinks once, twice, and then takes a breath as he watches Thatch, with Jozu and Haruta's help, clear a space in the middle for Whitebeard to set down the tied sack.

He has to keep it together. It's not the first time they've dealt with…unfortunate people, and if Whitebeard has his way it won't be the last. He needs to get a grip.

 _Go away. Go away, it's fine, it's_ fine, _go away –_

He feels a hand on his shoulder, blinks, and turns to find Izo's dark eyes roaming his face, concern in his gaze. "You alright?" he asks softly.

Gathering himself, Marco huffs once, laying his hand over Izo's pale one and patting it. "I'm good, yoi," he assures, and adds "Really," when Izo gives him a capital 'L' _Look_. "Let's just get this over with, yeah?"

Izo regards him a moment longer, eyes narrowed. Finally, he sighs with a nod and slips his hand off Marco's shoulder, turning to face the scene before them. Whitebeard and the other five summoned commanders have stationed themselves a few feet from the pillowcase, watching it carefully.

It's only now that Marco realizes that it's _quiet._ Their…well, 'prisoners' he supposes, have made no attempts to escape their entrapment, despite the fuss they'd made only seconds prior. There's no movement, no sound, nothing from their captured stowaways. The only evidence of their existence at all is the lump they make as they sit there.

Marco frowns the same time Pops does, and the two pirates trade a glance. Something's not right.

"They…they can still breathe in there, right?" Haruta asks after a solid minute of nothing.

"I think so," Fossa says, but now he, and admittedly the rest of them, are looking unsure. "Still, they weren't this freakin' quiet a few seconds ago. Did they pass out?"

"Could be a trap," Izo muses with a shrug that only seems casual, his fingers twitching; no doubt itching for the guns always hidden on his person. "Get us to lower our guard and then strike when the time is right."

Pops shakes his head. "I doubt they're in any condition to inflict real harm on anyone at the moment," he says. Then he inclines his head, considering. "Then again, one of them did try to bite me a few times before I stuffed them in the pillowcase."

Fossa snorts the same time Haruta smirks. "Gee, that's comforting." On Pop's left, muscled arms folded, Jozu shakes his head.

"Well, if they're not coming out to see us, I'll go ahead and meet them halfway," Thatch announces cheerfully, predictably the one who makes the first move, undoubtedly curious to get a look at their 'guests' and tired of standing around waiting. He crouches in front of the sack, untying the knot. "Let's take a look-see, shall we?"

He tentatively lifts the mouth of the sack and peers inside.

A powerful aura, thick and heavy, fills the room.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Thatch isn't sure why the others are so on edge. They're trespassers, sure, and have apparently attempted to take a bite or two out of Pops' hand at some point during what had to be an embarrassingly brief scuffle…but if what he'd overheard between first mate and captain was true, and if the look on Marco's face was anything to go by…

 _"I got a good look at these brats, Marco. I don't like what I saw."_

Thatch's eyes narrow, jaw taut as he unties the knot keeping the supposed brats inside the sack. Something's up. Something that had prevented Pops from throwing the interlopers overboard or simply killing them on the spot. He wants to see for himself what had stayed the hand of the strongest man in the world. Standing by and watching won't do a lick of good.

He lifts the mouth of the sack, recklessly peering inside. " _Hellooo~?"_ he calls softly, allowing a grin. "Anybody home –?"

He freezes, a shiver running up the length of his spine at the sudden spike of _something_ in the air. His grin falls flat. And no wonder. Because he's just come face to face with the **_angriest_** pair of eyes he's ever seen, boring deep into his own and demanding that he drop dead where he stands.

For a moment, Thatch can barely breathe in the face of the searing heat these eyes exhort, the immense pressure of this – this _kid's_ aura, the _hate_ in his seething glare.

A stark comparison to what he now remembers, with startling clarity, as a shy, freckled little newbie wandering about the ship by himself, the same one the cook had called 'tiny', 'adorable', and 'cute'. What he sees before him now is _none_ of those things, and every bit dangerous as a venomous snake.

Then – "Oh," he squeaks, lips tilting in a wobbly and honestly scared smile. "What _angry_ eyes you have."

One silver eye twitches, and then cracked lips peel back into a snarl that releases a truly guttural growl. Behind him, he hears Izo and Haruta shiver.

Thatch gulps, sweating. "And what nice _teeth_ you have."

 _I should really stop talking._

Those very teeth snap just inches from his nose when the boy _lunges_ at Thatch. Haki on his side, the pirate dodges but just barely, because this guy – this _kid,_ is freakin' _fast._ He lets out a rather undignified screech as he scoots backwards across the floor on his rear. "What bad temper you have!" he squawks before he can help himself, stumbling to his feet with Izo's help. His fellow commanders immediately step forward, wary and angry, as the three boys – all _children_ – finally clamber out of the pillowcase.

And then Thatch balks, horrified, when they stand to their full, non-too impressive height, and truly understands what Pops had said to Marco. They're short, raggedy, and incredibly _thin._

 _Kids. They're_ starved _kids, in rags, dirty and a little bloody, cuffs on their bare feet…_

 _Slaves._

He thinks he might be sick, or cry.

The bite-y one is the first to raise his fists, snarling through his teeth at them all like a wild animal. The littlest one of the three clings to the blond with one hand on his grubby t-shirt, the other bunched into a determined fist that shakes just barely, though the resolve is plain even with the mere traces of distress emanating off his tiny frame. The blond has one arm around the smaller boy, discolored eyes skimming the assembled commanders. He looks ready to claw someone's eyes out and shove them down some throats…until his own start to count just how many pirates surround them on all sides, and it's like a switch flips in his brain.

Thatch watches, oddly dismayed, as the fight slowly drains from the kid until all that remains is confusion, which rapidly gives way to something else, like a cornered mouse amid a pack of monstrous felines.

Something stabs Thatch's heart and mercilessly _twists_.

The freckled boy, on the other hand, doesn't so much as bat an eye at their numbers, glaring at every single Whitebeard in the room, namely the captain himself, standing by and watching with solemn eyes. The boy takes a purposeful step forward. To do what, Thatch has no idea, because no way in hell is he in any condition to do anything let alone fight.

(Gotta give him credit, though; he's got balls to pick a fight with an Emperor.)

Marco is quick to intercept the kid, sliding into his path with ease. And though his glare is firm, there's pain hidden in the depths of his eyes, an aching Thatch knows well (and hates every time he sees it).

"I suggest you calm down, yoi," he says. Even with the building pressure in the air, all of which emanate from the freckled youth in their midst in a manner reminiscent to Whitebeard himself (and another, a powerful rival lost long ago), he's calm and steady in the face of such loathing coming from a boy that barely reaches his chin. "We're not going to hurt you. But unless you settle down, we'll have no choice but to restrain you."

 _Harsh,_ Thatch thinks with a grimace, but unfortunately true. The boy looks pissed enough to try and tackle one of them, and might succeed in at least injuring someone, or worse, himself. However, this just angers the boy further. Silver burns into cobalt, a battle of wills. Marco quirks one brow, as though to say _'try me, I dare you.'_

The kid's fist twitches just once at his side. The commanders tense, and there's a protest on the tip of Thatch's tongue that begs Marco to reconsider because he's just a _kid_ –

The blond suddenly moves, yanking Freckles backwards by the collar of his shirt, and the pressing aura vanishes in the blink of an eye.

When he stumbles to his side with a choked gasp, the blond forces him and the littlest one down until all three are on their knees. Then, hands clenched in their hair, the blond forces their heads down into a deep bow, foreheads pressing against the floorboards.

 _"We're sorry!"_ he cries.

Everything stops. Marco _freezes,_ eyes wide and suddenly, frighteningly, laser focused on the bowing boys.

 _'Oh god,'_ Thatch thinks, agonized, as Izo takes one look at the first division commander and slides over, a hand coming up to firmly clasp the other's arm. _'It's that bad'._

Jozu, Fossa and Haruta pause and trade looks, equal parts confused, shocked. Whitebeard's eyes, trained solely on the kids, are utterly pained.

(It's no secret that the Whitebeards have found, rescued and/or taken in many slaves in the last few years. Thatch can name a few on one hand. But it's been a _very_ long time since they've come across anything so…terribly _sad_.)

"Uh," Fossa is the first to speak, taking a hesitant step forward, awkward as a new-born deer, as he's always been around young children. This, unfortunately, is even worse. "Hey, it's – what're you –?"

"We're sorry!" Blond repeats, almost desperate, his voice shaking. Freckles tries to lift his head off the floor, but Blond is quick to slam his face back down with an audible ' _bang!'_ that has even Jozu wincing. The littlest one doesn't budge an inch, frozen solid where he kneels with his face pressed against the floor.

"We're sorry. We're sorry," Blond says again, like a mantra, a _prayer_. "Don't kill us, please. We – we meant no harm or trouble. We – we just wanted – we –"

"Hey, hey, _easy,"_ Haruta hushes, such things coming easy to him when it comes to children. He steps forward with the confidence Fossa lacks, palms held up, not that the boys can see. "It's okay. We promise we won't hurt any of you. You're okay. We just want to know where you came from and –"

"We snuck aboard your boat early yesterday morning, when you departed from Garnet Island," Blond replies instantly, as though responding to a harsh command rather than a gentle request. He swallows hard, the tremble in his voice returning with his next words. "We esca – we _ran_ from our previous masters, and…w-we were partially responsible for the uprising that led to the fire and the rioting on the castle grounds."

Thatch's eyes go wide. _The fire engulfing the castle, the untamed riots…that was…?_

"Holy _crap_ ," Fossa barks the same time Izo's mouth falls open and Jozu's eyes narrow. Marco, having since come around somewhat, regards the kids evenly, masking what Thatch is certain is either amazement or shock. Whitebeard is indecipherable, but curiosity gleams in his golden eyes.

"That was _you three?"_ Haruta gapes, looking the boys up and down, probably thinking the same as Thatch – you wouldn't think three, malnourished, raggedy children could hope to start a rebellion against the leaders of the land, against anyone really. And yet…

"And the stolen apples, the vomit, and the strange bedding found in the miscellaneous storage hold reported last night," Jozu adds. "That was your doing as well?"

The blond and the littlest one recoil slightly. "…y-yes, sirs," Blond stammers – _sirs?_ – "That was our doing. We boarded your ship without permission and raided your provisions…and…and attacked your captain." He presses their heads and his own down even harder, as if to merge with the floor itself. "We're sorry. We're sorry. Please, don't kill us. We'll do anything, whatever you ask. We deserve to be punished for our actions but please, let us live."

The longer Thatch is forced to watch this, the more his heart aches for them, the more hatred begins to bubble within him for the heartless bastards that had _dared_ to touch these kids, to _sell_ them, _hurt_ them, molding them into _this_.

(Despite the freckled kid's violent display, the fire raging in his eyes, the three of them still reek of terror, filling the room with it much like the fury that had encompassed them and threatened to flatten them. Thatch would much sooner take the anger, the hate, anything but _this_.)

The fourth commander risks a glance around him; Jozu and Fossa, hardened pirates who have seen some of the worst of this world, stare at the hunched forms with such profound sympathy creasing their features, their jaws tense and locked. Haruta is no different, nor is Izo with a hand over his mouth, lips pressed together, fingers gripping the fabric of Marco's jacket in an iron hold. The first commanders' half-lidded eyes are a storm.

Thatch lets out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. For the first time in a while, he's at a loss as to what the hell he, or any of them, are supposed to do. He'd wanted to see what Pops had, wanted to know why he'd stayed his hand. An ugly part of him wishes he'd never looked. It's almost too much, too close to back then, and it's a wonder that Marco hasn't already…

A strained grunt breaks the stillness. The freckled one moves his head, pinning the blond with a fierce glare. "Sabo," he hisses, and thank _god_ they still have names, "what the hell are you _doing –?"_

 _"Shut up,_ Ace," Sabo hisses back, the fingers in the other's black waves tightening. He continues in a hoarse whisper that Thatch must strain his ears to hear – "We can't fight them, not this time. We won't win. Please, just – just do as they say. We've caused enough trouble already, Ace. _Please._ "

Ace looks ready to scream at Sabo, eyes flashing. A near inaudible whimper stops him short, and his eyes travel to the littlest one on Sabo's left. He still hasn't moved from the bow he'd been forced into, nor has he said a word since they were set free. Now he's shaking, bleeding fingers digging into the splintering floorboards. Thatch can see a wet patch just below the kid's face, his cheeks wet and shining.

Ace must see it, too, for he goes incredibly still for a moment, horror in his eyes. The anger leaves him in a single breath, and soon he's turning away, pressing his face against the floor. "…please," he says, his voice hoarse, devoid of any fight. "Please…let us live. We'll do anything."

 _He's given in. They all have._

Before Thatch's heart can completely shatter (it's too much it's too much it's _too much)_ Whitebeard finally steps forward, and the commanders part for him, watching him curiously. He stops in front of the kids and eases himself to one knee. "Boys," he says, decibels softer than usual, an impressive feat for such a loud man.

All three of them still flinch at his voice, however, even the Ace kid. Whitebeard continues, unimpeded. "Please, stand up. Let me see your faces."

The speed in which they comply is almost frightening. In seconds, Sabo releases the other two and as one they get to their feet, backs erect. Their eyes remain on Whitebeard's chin; not even Ace meets his eyes directly now. The little guy is sniffling quietly, his cheeks damp and his eyes overflowing, his mouth screwed shut to hold back frightened sobs.

If the old man is upset at all by this, he doesn't show it. "Remind me of your names, please."

At this, they blink in surprise and trade glances from the corners of their eyes, keeping their heads down. Whether it's because Pops has been saying 'please' and asking permission this whole time, or that he's even bothered to ask for their names, it's not clear. Thatch wonders if anyone's ever so much as asked if they were okay, if they were tired or if they were hungry, or scared...

They collect themselves quickly though, and the blond speaks first, tentatively. "...my...my name is Sabo, sir."

"Ace," the freckled boy grunts with a scowl.

Sabo half looks like he wants to slug Ace and half like he wants to fuse with the ground and disappear. Instead, he lays a hand on the littlest one's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "This is Luffy, sir," he says. "He does – _can't_ speak, sir."

He's not quite quick enough to cover up the 'doesn't', and the implications disturb Thatch even more. _It's almost exactly like..._

He risks a glance at Marco before he can stop himself. Marco's fists are clenched and white, his lips a thin line. He looks seconds away from destroying something, or shifting into his phoenix form and getting the hell out of here to destroy something. Izo's hand tightens around his arm in response, a grounding touch and a silent plea for him to keep it together, just a little bit longer.

Whitebeard nods, his focus on the youngest in the room for now, despite the turmoil of his eldest. "I see. Now then, Ace, Sabo and Luffy, allow me to make something very clear..."

They lower their heads. Ace's fists clench, teeth grinding. Sabo shuts his eyes, acceptance in his dropping shoulders. Luffy shakes under Sabo's hand, more tears spilling over.

"...from this moment forward, the three of you are our guests," the captain says. When their heads snap up, eyes wide and mouths slack with shock, breaths hitching, his smile is sincere and inviting. "No harm will come to you as long as you are on my ship. You're welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish, and will be provided with whatever you need during your stay. We're by no means a passenger ship, however, wherever it is you want to go, be it your homeland or the next island we drop anchor, we will take you there. You have my word."

The boys gawp at him, making eye contact for the first time with the giant of a man. Luffy blinks hard, both hands coming up to wipe the tears off his blotchy cheeks and then grip Sabo's arm, looking from the old captain to his slack-jawed friends. Sabo glances at the boy once, and then meets Ace's eyes; the other boy shakes his head, bewildered.

They're so confused, stunned, by a simple act of kindness. It might be cute, Thatch thinks, if the circumstances weren't so damn heart-breaking.

Still, he finds himself smiling, because what had he honestly expected from Whitebeard? The man is known worldwide for taking in just about anybody he takes an interest in, no matter who they are, where they come from…no mattered how scarred, or frightened, or alone.

'We're all children of the sea' he says to anyone who asks; the sea is a vast, dangerous, beautiful place, but she doesn't discriminate. And neither does Edward Newgate.

The chef shoots his fellow commanders another glance. Fossa and Haruta are grinning at each other now, fist-bumping. Jozu nods, a small but earnest tilt to his lips. Izo his hiding a big smile behind his sleeve, and Marco…Marco looks spades better, the old anguish gone from his gaze as he stares at Whitebeard's back, his smile warm, reminiscing, proud. _Ah, Marco._

"...sir?" Sabo asks after a moment, lifting his arm to tuck Luffy closer to his side, the boy instantly winding his skinny arms around the elder's middle. Ace takes half a step to the side so that his shoulder brushes against Sabo's. "I…we don't...we don't understand, sir. Aren't you...?" he trails off, biting his lip.

Whitebeard chuckles. The sound makes Luffy blink, and something akin to recognition dawns in his eyes. "If you expect me to throw three children overboard, you've got another thing coming," he says. "My name is Edward Newgate, but you three can call me Whitebeard – everyone else does."

"…white…beard?" Sabo repeats, brows furrowing. His eyes, and Luffy's, flick downward in unison, and everyone in the room smothers their snickers at what they _all_ know the boys are thinking – though Thatch can't help but notice the way Ace has suddenly tensed up again, eyes averted. Maybe the name rings a bell? A certain 'Emperor of the Sea' kind of bell, perhaps?

Whitebeard chuckles again. "Yes, I'm aware I don't have an actual beard, but it is what it is. I'd also like to apologize for scaring you earlier. And stuffing you, quite unceremoniously, into my pillowcase. That wasn't ideal, but you _did_ try to bite my hand, Sabo."

Sabo splutters, an incoherent jumble of sounds escaping his lips as his cheeks turn a dark shade of red. Ace snaps from whatever trance he'd been absorbed in to gawk at Sabo (wait, _Sabo_ was the biter, even after Ace attempted to bite of Thatch's damn nose?).

And then, dry eyes scrunched closed and a beam stretching his lips, Luffy giggles. Freaking _giggles._

It's a small one, timid in nature, but such a contrast to the terrified little thing they've been courting until now, and it melts every single heart in the room (even Jozu's, he can deny it all he wants, Thatch knows the truth). He tugs on Sabo's shirt twice to get his attention, and then gestures with his hands and fingers – oh, the kid knows sign language! Oh, thank the seas, he's not completely lost after all.

Admittedly, Thatch's signing is a little rusty, but he catches what the boy says.

'I like him,' Luffy signs, grinning all the while; it suits him, incredibly so, and it lights up the whole room with its glow, like the sun after a dreary storm. 'He's funny. He's good. I can tell.'

 _Aww._

Blinking at the small boy, Sabo exchanges a brief look with Ace. The blond looks unsure, and Ace simply frowns. Guess that explains where their trust lies, and who can possibly blame them?

"I'm glad you feel that way, Luffy," Whitebeard says as he gets to his feet, startling the boys as they take a few steps back – even Luffy, despite his claims – Sabo quickly pulling Luffy to his chest and Ace moving to half shield the other two. The captain, unfazed, merely smiles. "I'll have my commanders Izo and Marco escort you to the showers before you settle. You'll need fresh clothes, and food to get your strength back, if you're up to it."

"We should let the nurses take a look at them, too," Marco adds, finally speaking up, back to his old Marco self at last. Thatch fees a swell of relief. "Wouldn't wanna risk them getting sick, yoi."

Whitebeard nods. "Good thinking. Showers first, though. I'd rather they feel comfortable in their own skin than see them in those rags another minute."

"That's my cue~!" Izo almost sings as he glides over to the boys, who immediately regard him and his eager smile warily. Again, Thatch can't fault them for it; Izo is quite the formidable force when he gets like this.

"Hello boys," he says kindly, softening his smile a tad. Sabo and Luffy relax only slightly, while Ace's scowl is a permanent, distrustful thing. "I'm Izo, Sixteenth Division commander of the Whitebeards. I'll be escorting you to First Division's shower room. As for your clothes, well…I'll have something much better whipped up for you in no time." He winks at them and beckons them to follow, which they do after sparing Whitebeard a final glance. They're cautious, not quite believing what's going on, what motivations or true intentions are at play, and are undoubtedly hoping to find the answers in Whitebeard's countenance.

They only find a genuine smile and a warm gaze.

In the face of it, three things happen all at once; Sabo looks away, blond hair falling into indecisive eyes; Luffy smiles again, a small but wonderful thing as he lifts a hand and shyly waves at the captain; Ace balks, his frown deepening harshly as he snaps his gaze away, tugging on Luffy's wrist to usher him after Izo. They dutifully follow the sixteenth commander (who's already muttering about sizes, color coordination and other such hideous things) out of Navigation, leaving the remaining commanders and their captain to watch them go. Nodding once to Whitebeard, Marco slips out to follow at a more sedate pace.

Then – "Well damn," Jozu says, a heavy sigh whooshing out of the third commander like he's been holding it in.

"Ditto," Fossa mutters, digging into the pockets of his jacket to pluck out a cigar, lighting it and taking a mighty puff. "Haven't seen anything like _that_ in a while. Those kids…" he shakes his head gravely, shutting his eyes. "…they're messed up. Poor brats."

Thatch, for once, can't think of anything to add, and simply nods. He's already running through diet plans, what to give them to keep them up and energized and how much so that he doesn't make them sick, like the apples –

"Pops," Haruta's voice, an edge to it that's seldom heard, draws all eyes to the twelfth division commander leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He looks up to meet Whitebeard's gaze, and if his eyes are a little shiny, no one brings it up. "…is it too late to go back to Garnet Island and burn it to the ground?"

Whitebeard's smile is long gone, and his new frown is thunderous, golden eyes narrowed darkly. Had he his bisento in hand, the handle would be cracking dangerously, much like the sudden charge in the air. "I'm afraid so, my son," he replies, and sounds as infuriated by this prospect as Haruta – and Jozu, and Fossa – looks. "However, I would not argue against anyone taking a small group to pay King Serge a visit in the foreseeable future."

The three commanders' grins border on feral in reply. And Thatch, though not often one for vengeance, finds a grin matching theirs already spreading across his lips.

(Those kids may not be Whitebeards, but who says pirates need an excuse to plunder an island?)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**

 **(please don't kill me ^^;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N~ My LORD. This chapter. This. Freaking. Chapter. Has been the BANE of my existence for DAYZZZ. But it's FINALLY done, and now I can move on with my life - by writing more and neglecting face-to-face interaction with people XD  
**

 **Thanks again for all the reviews - incredibly inspiring and uplifting! And special thanks t0**

 **Wordlet - wow, I'm glad you picked up on what I was aiming to do! Trauma is different for everybody, and there's no magic cure that will take it all away. It'll take time, and trust. Thanks for the review!**

 **VisitorNo.18 - are you, by any chance, reading my mind? XD**

 **Blackthorn Ashe - ...heh heh heh~**

 **CanIHaveAHug (aka S-Word master XD) - the WBP really are the Best(TM). Whitebeard is #1 Dad of the Century.**

 **Without further ado, the next chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 _Lost my faith in trust_

 _You and I know gold don't turn to rust._

* * *

The boys follow Izo like a trio of lost lambs, two of which are wide-eyed and curious though cautious of their surroundings as the _Moby_ _Dick_ finally comes to life.

Breakfast has come and gone already – Thatch's Division is experienced enough to cover the ordeal even without his presence in the kitchens – and now the decks are swarming with mostly sober pirates, all working seamlessly like a colony of ants amid the constant noise under the sweltering heat of the sun's golden rays, despite it being wintertime. Paradise and its weather are certainly inconsistent, the New World even more so. It's beautiful now, perfect sailing conditions – all they need is some strong winds to fill the sails – but it's best not to jinx it. It'll change at a coin toss.

Up on the main deck, commanders are calling orders left and right, men and women alike springing to comply in preparation to set sail once the winds pick up, others conversing by the railings, pouring over sheets of complied stock and possible repairs and tune-ups that require the attention of the shipwrights soon…

Others are pausing to stare after their new, very young guests as they pass. Murmurs begin to drift around, and some stares linger longer than others.

 _Oh for goodness sake,_ Izo inwardly drones with a hard roll of his eyes. Fearsome pirates indeed, acting like they've never seen children before. Though he supposes it's been a while; the most recent youngest member of the crew is in their twenties at most. Teenagers and pre-teens are a foreign sight on this ship of brawny, seasoned men and women of the brinies.

He looks over one shoulder at the three of everyone's current interest. Little Luffy shifts closer to Sabo at the attention they're starting to gain, even from commanders who have yet to be updated on the circumstances. Sabo, as natural as breathing, tucks the smaller boy to his chest with one arm around his shoulders, head lowered, eyes on the floor. Ace shoots anyone who comes within three feet of them a truly poisonous glare.

Looks like he's gotten some of that earlier fight back. That's good, at least.

What _isn't_ good is the constant ogling and wittering among the crew-members following their every move. They boys are anxious enough as it is.

Izo meets Marco's eyes where the blond walks just behind Ace, and the other man nods once. Izo turns back and sighs, coming to a halt, prompting the boys to follow suit. He feels their eyes boring into his back, Ace's most notably, but he pays them no mind. "Stop staring and get back to work, you louts," he calls, loud and clear and sharp with warning that has at least half of those on deck freeze, others gulping when his hand moves to where his pistol always lies concealed in his sash. "These boys are our guests, and that's all you need to know for now. So _scram."_

And scram they do, practically tripping over themselves in their haste to return to their obligations, avoiding any and all eye-contact with either commanders as they scatter like insects.

Satisfied, Izo drops his hands harmlessly to his sides and turns to the dumbfounded children, offering a smile. "Never mind them, dears. They're always like this around newcomers," he says. "No one here means you any harm."

The only one at all consoled by this is Luffy, nodding against Sabo's side and loosening his iron grip around the blonde's middle. Sabo still looks uncertain, averting his eyes and biting his lower lip. Ace doesn't look convinced in the slightest, and if possible, his frown only deepens. Izo doesn't hold it against either of the older boys nor does he take to heart their distrust, merely offering another smile before leading onward, free of any more prying eyes.

The commanders are all blessed with their own private cabins and showers, but the division's shower rooms are still wide and spacious with a separate section for baths to soak in after. The boys look around the room with awe (and thank the gods it's empty; heaven forbid they traumatize these poor things any more than they already have been), careful not to slip on the slippery surface of the wet tiles.

(Izo tries not to think about how long they've possibly gone without a proper bath, without access to basic hygiene that might have damaged their health as a result. The sooner they see to Whiskey and her nurses, the better.)

The sixteenth commander turns to them with a flourish, beaming. "Now, I know you're eager to get clean, but before you bathe, I'll need to quickly take a few measurements for your clothes if that's alright with you," he says.

They blink at him with wide, inquisitive eyes, heads tilting in unison. They look like mucky puppies. It's wretchedly adorable.

"…our…clothes, sir?" Sabo hesitantly asks.

Izo nods, offering yet another appeasing smile. It's working, somehow, as they seem far more at ease around him than before (which, considering they're still incredibly wary, keeping their distance and hardly speaking, is saying quite a lot. Still, Izo will take a victory when he sees one.)

"Of course. What, do you honestly think we're going to let you walk about in those filthy rags all day?" He waves a hand at their…'attire'. They look down at themselves, at their grubby, torn, malodorous clothing and their mucky bodies, and they grimace. Izo nods again. "Exactly. So, as per the captain's request and because I'm an angel –"

Marco smirks.

"– shut up, I shall take it upon myself to make new clothes for the three of you, no exemptions. I'll go right ahead and burn what you're wearing now, assuming you don't want to keep them –"

" _Hell_ _no_ ," Ace growls. Sabo and Luffy jump in surprise, the former glaring at the freckled boy accusingly. Ace ignores him.

Izo merely shrugs, taking no notice of the blatant hostility. "I thought so. But first –" he whips out some measuring tape he never fails to keep on his person, snapping it taut and flashing a grin. "– _measurements_ ~!"

The boys, and Marco, gulp fearfully.

The measuring process, with Marco's unenthusiastic aid, takes less than five minutes thanks to experience and precision on Izo's part (Marco is quite handy too, he supposes. The bird has his uses).

Izo makes sure to add at least an extra inch on all of them; no doubt they'll pack on a few pounds eventually, and (hopefully) some muscle.

He's noticed something rather interesting, though; Luffy and Sabo are alarmingly thin, but Ace, whilst too thin and a little short for his age (whatever it is, he assumes thirteen) he still has something of a build, more slender than gaunt like the other two. Izo wonders why but doesn't dwell too much. Dwelling leads to insalubrious conclusions he'd rather not come to.

Soon, they're ushered to the showers. Izo grants them privacy while they strip off and toss the disgusting rags by preparing their bath instead. He makes it a bubble bath last minute; something tells him Luffy will positively love it, and Sabo and Ace will at least appreciate it. He's heedful not to fill the tub too much, remembering two of them are devil fruit users (the cuffs on Ace and Luffy's ankles are a giveaway) and are easily susceptible to lethargy even in regular tap water. Which reminds him…

"Hey, Marco –"

"I'll get Rakuyo on it as soon as they're settled in, yoi," the blond says, his smile a little smug when Izo rolls his eyes with a huff. Should've known. The 'big brother', of course, knows everything _. Cocky bastard_.

"Um…sirs?"

The commanders turn. The boys stand behind them in a line, dripping wet with towels wrapped around their bare bodies, making them look even smaller and younger as the cottony white fabric swallows them whole; Luffy's head only just peeks out from where his towel has been wrapped (no doubt by his brothers) securely around his tiny shoulders. Sabo is blushing hard, shifting uncomfortably, while Ace simply clenches his jaws shut.

Despite their discomfort, they already look spades better; gone is the grime and the dried blood, color gradually returning to their pale faces from the warm water and steam, their hair almost shining in the light. Hell, Sabo finally looks like a proper blond, golden curls sticking to his scarred face.

(Thank god at least one of them knows what conditioner is; Izo had overheard Sabo earlier, scolding both Ace and Luffy for trying to _eat_ it. The commander damn near had a heart attack.)

Izo claps his hands once, grinning. "You're all done? Good!" he chimes. "Now, go ahead and hop in the bath to soak whilst I get your clothes ready. Once you're dried off and dressed, Marco will take you to the infirmary for a check-up with our head nurse, Whiskey. Is all of this okay with you?"

The boys trade looks. Luffy looks between his older brothers, apparently awaiting their answers before giving his own. Eventually, they turn back to Izo and nod. "Yes, sir," Sabo says, bowing his head slightly. Ace grunts, and Luffy shuffles where he stands, fingers clutching the towel wrapped around him, torn between bowing like Sabo or remaining defiantly still like Ace.

Izo squashes the urge to pull the poor things into his arms and hold them tight, because lord knows they'll _love_ that. "Alright, then. Come now, into the bath before it gets cold." He smiles, leaning in a little closer and winking. "I've added bubbles ~."

He smothers a laugh when the three of them immediately perk up like excited puppies.

Luffy beams, hesitance gone, dashing and almost slipping towards the bathtub, discarding his towel haphazardly and jumping right in with a splash, soaking Izo's robes.

The man inhales deeply and exhales through his nose, lips pressed into a thin line.

(He can forgive this, he tells himself, just this once. Wouldn't do to lose his temper over a little boy getting excited by what may well be his first bubble bath. And these aren't even his best robes.

He can change. It's all fine.

 _Dammit._ )

"Luffy!" Ace and Sabo hiss, the latter almost panicked as he offers Izo an incredibly apologetic bow of his head, a murmured plea for mercy, while the former disregards Izo completely and heads straight for the giggling child already playing with the bubbles. When Ace sets his towel aside and joins Luffy in the warm bath, Luffy scoops a handful of bubbles into his cupped palms and blows them into Ace's face. The freckled boy splutters and retaliates by splashing Luffy in the face. They go back and forth until Sabo, skittering past Izo and Marco like a wary, wet kitten, scolds them for getting water and soap everywhere.

The black-haired duo turns to look up at him blankly for a moment. They splash him, and his towel. Growling, Sabo tosses the towel and jumps in, and thus the war begins anew, a cluster-cuss of splashing, incoherent yelling (and giggling on Luffy's part), bubbles flying everywhere.

Izo and Marco watch from a safe distance, well out of the splash zone. "They've forgotten we're even here," Izo remarks, moving to gather the dirty rags off the floor by the showers where the boys had gladly discarded them. He frowns in disgust, wondering if it's too late to go back and shoot the bastards responsible just for this.

"That's good, yoi," Marco says, smiling softly as they turn away, leaving the boys to play. "Means they're starting to get comfortable around us."

They exit the shower room and shut the door behind them. Marco leans against the wall, arms folded. "I'll wait out here 'til you get back, keep anyone else out for now. They won't do well with crowds or other people in general, yoi."

"Of course. I won't be long, an hour at most. I'll get my division started on making these boys the best damn clothes this side of Paradise," Izo says with a wink and a confident smile that has Marco roll his eyes, muttering nonsense about 'going overboard'. Ha. Shows how much _he_ knows about fashion; perfection takes time, and a lot of hands on deck. Of course, uncultured disasters like this feathery, flaming turkey won't understand.

Speaking of which… "How long, do you think?" he asks. He doesn't need to elaborate.

Marco releases a long sigh, glancing at the door beside him. Luffy's laughter, growing louder, hasn't diminished in the slightest, nor has the splashing. No doubt they're making quite the mess for Marco's men to clean up later.

"Hard to tell," he admits, and suddenly the phoenix looks incredibly tired, a rare thing for a being with seemingly infinite energy to hand. "They're all so different, yoi. It depends on just how bad they've really had it, for how long, and how they choose to cope. From what we've seen so far, it doesn't look positive."

"Luffy seems pretty happy, though. Granted, he did cry back in navigation, but –"

"He seems that way, but only with Sabo and Ace nearby. And the kid doesn't _speak,_ Izo, at all. Not even with his brothers. They're like his lifeline; take them out of the equation, and he might be even worse, yoi."

Marco sighs again, titling his head back to stare blankly at the ceiling. His eyes are distant, old almost, recalling days long gone but never forgotten, not truly. "They're not okay, Izo," he says softly. "It'll…be a while."

Izo regards his brother, softening as he lets out a breath. "Well…can't say I'm all that surprised," he admits, aching for the older man and the little ones they've taken in. Shifting the dirty bundle into one arm, he reaches out with the other hand to softly touch Marco's cheek, jarring him from his thoughts as he meets Izo's eyes.

Izo gives his fellow commander a smile, one he hopes the phoenix can truly feel. "You'll be alright, won't you?" he asks softly. "I mean…this isn't too…?"

Marco chuckles. He lays his hand over Izo's pale fingers, gratitude gleaming in his blue eyes, and he shakes his head. "It's fine. I'm not made of glass, yoi," he says. "It's the brats I'm more worried about."

 _'You would be, wouldn't you?'_ Izo muses, drawing his hand back as he turns, heading for the main deck to gather his men and burn these wretched things. ' _You're always looking out for others. So much that you hardly look out for yourself.'_

He smiles to himself, shaking his head.

 _'Lovable idiot.'_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

There's a presence lurking just beyond his door, and Edward lifts his eyes from the paper he'd been reading.

(It's nothing too important, just another update on Red Hair's actions in the New World. The veteran pirate does wonder more and more, however, of what could possibly be going through that kid's head these days, attacking slave ships and auction houses left and right like a one-armed, vengeful spirit.

Theories are stacking up; the media, as always, are blowing things out of proportion, claiming the Red Hair Pirates are readying themselves for an attack on Mariejois to free the slaves of Celestial Dragons, much like the former captain of the Sun Pirates had done long ago. As if the brat would risk such a thing. He's a reckless bastard, much like his captain, but he's not a complete moron.

From the looks of it, he'll be heading back to Paradise for a while, maybe even one of the Blues. Their crews may meet somewhere in the middle, then. Perhaps Edward can pick his brain for answers over some sake. He's been wondering how he'd managed to lose his left arm, among other things.)

For now, he sets the paper aside on his desk. "Come in," he says, and three of his commanders step inside, shutting the door behind them and greeting him warmly. Edward offers a smile in return. "Anything to report, boys?"

Namur steps forward first. "Twelfth Division has already plotted a course for Sabaody Archipelago, Pops," the fishman says. "Weather permitting, Haruta estimates we should be there in six weeks tops, seven counting any stops we need to make along the way."

"The next Island is about a week away, a winter island called Tundra. Kind of ironic, considering how close it is to Christmas," Vista says with a grin, twirling his mustache around a gloved finger. "The locals don't mind pirates from what I hear, so long as they don't cause any trouble. They should be more than happy to let us dock and resupply should we need it. Might even let us stick around for the celebrations."

"My division's already finished stock count," Thatch says, pride in his voice and the shape of his smile at the efforts of his men and women. "Despite last night's party – and a certain little munchkin stealing half our apples – we should be good for a month. Personally, though, I'd be happier knowing we have enough to feed three more mouths and then some. Best we stock up on food while we're at Tundra, just to be on the safe side." And then he grins. "And believe me, I'm not holding back on meal prep this year! I'm going _all out,_ you just wait and see!"

Edward doesn't even try to hide his smile at his son's excitement for the upcoming holiday, nor at the little nickname. _'Little munchkin indeed'_. "And what of our honorary guests?" he asks. "Have arrangements been made to accommodate them?"

Vista grin widens. "Since heading to the baths, Izo's summoned his _entire_ division on making new clothes and refurbishing the old cabin of the Second Division commander." He chuckles. "He's really going all out with this one."

"And I'd expect nothing less," Edward laughs. "His enthusiasm notwithstanding, it's good of him – all of you – to go to such lengths. They might not be with us for long, but we can make sure they'll be comfortable regardless."

That's when Thatch frowns, a slow but sure thing that gives the old captain pause. "Actually, Pops, about that…" he trails off, scratching the back of his head and staring his feet.

Namur and Vista watch him oddly. Edward raises a brow and waits.

The brunette lets out a breath and raises his head to meet his father's eyes, his own dark pair steady with resolve. "The thing is, Pops," he begins, "we really don't need Whiskey or the nurses to tell us how rough those boys have had it. And that's not even taking their emotional or mental health into consideration. I know you promised you'd take them wherever they like, but honestly, I don't think it'd be wise to leave them on their own the way they are now. They might seem quiet, but they're fierce little bastards when it comes down to it, and crafty to boot; they managed to hide from _all_ of us for a full day without anyone noticing –"

"Technically you _did_ find Ace last night," Namur points out.

Thatch pauses, and then shrugs. "True, but I was drunk off my ass, so that doesn't count. But like I was saying, because of everything they've been through, they're submissive to a degree, but they're also prone to bouts of extreme aggression at the flip of a switch. I think I saw a bit of that from Sabo, actually."

Edward nods slowly, recalling what he'd seen of the blond before he'd stuffed the three of them into the pillowcase (guiltily, he can't help but still find the whole ordeal hilarious), and later when they were released. There was ice, retribution in his glare as his eyes stalked across the room. Ice that melted just as quickly, washing away what fight he'd had, leaving behind only the acquiescent slave to bow his head and beg for mercy on his brothers' behalf.

It's saddening as it is sickening, to see humans so young conditioned like _mongrels_.

"And from what I can tell," Thatch continues, "they're pretty freakin' desperate to survive, and _incredibly_ paranoid around other people in general. Given the chance, they'd most likely kill anyone who so much as looks at them funny. They're capable enough to do it – you felt Ace's aura back there, and Sabo's no pushover either. Hell, I'm almost scared of what _Luffy_ might do."

The captain hums in acknowledgment. It's disturbing, to think of what fear, starvation and desperation will force one to do when they have nothing to lose and everything to gain. But Thatch isn't wrong. And Edward has seen it before, many times. It's not a pretty sight.

(It's a miracle, really, that those boys are still alive, their spirits intact, despite the horrific ordeal; most grown men, pirates even, feared warriors of the past, have their wills broken much quicker, embracing death as a far kinder fate than slavery.)

"While that might be true," Vista says, facing Thatch and frowning, "you're acting like we'll just _let_ that happen. And perhaps they're capable of harming others, but not in their current condition. They won't survive any confrontation, or at all if they leave the ship way they are. And besides, they're perfectly calm now, who's to say –?"

"They don't trust us, Vista," Thatch faces the fifth commander, frown deepening in what Edward can only assume is frustration, an undercurrent of sorrow in his eyes. "They're only calm now because they think they _have_ to be. They'll probably bolt the minute we drop anchor at the next island, which is only a week away; not nearly enough time for them to recuperate or build any sort of trust or sense of security around other people. They'll leave the ship, kill or be killed, and I personally don't need or want that on my conscience."

Vista's eyes go wide for a moment, and then avert their gaze to the ground.

"But it's not like we can _make_ them stay, either," Namur adds, his expression torn but incredibly sour. Edward has an inkling as to why; such topics are sensitive to the young fishman.

Sure enough – "I'm fortunate to never have experienced slavery of any kind despite the…" he shudders, "… _value_ my people have among some humans. But I know enough, heard some stories. To the brats, being forced to do anything they're not completely willing to do might seem like slavery all over again, just a different kind under a different master. And like Thatch said, the only reason they've been as compliant as they are is because there's so many of us, and they're terrified we'll kill them if they say 'no' to anything we ask."

Thatch nods at him. "Exactly. Worse still, they can't distinguish a genuine act of kindness from an order behind a fake smile; a high-five might as well be a slap in the face to knock 'em flat, or a plate of food might be spiked with poison for a laugh."

At that, the chef barely withholds a truly furious snarl, fists shaking at his sides – god forbid he would do such a thing, pirate or no, a factor Edward is more than proud of. But the brats won't know that. They'll _think_ it, though, and it's truly saddening.

Thatch takes a moment to compose himself, shoulders drooping as he looks back up at the aged captain. "You get what I'm saying, Pops?" he asks.

"I hear you, my sons," Edward replies. He strokes his chin as he mulls it all over, narrowed golden eyes cast upwards. "This is an unfortunate predicament. It's been so long, I fear I've foolishly forgotten just how wretched an existence a former slave might live if left to their own devices without proper rehabilitation."

Grimacing, Vista nods grimly. "Yes. To ensure their well-being and that of others once they re-join society, as it were, we'll need time. And for that, we'll need their absolute trust, enough for them to stay aboard long enough to adjust. How exactly do we go about this for not one, but _three_ teenagers who trust us as far as they can throw us?"

Namur shrugs, shaking his head helplessly. Thatch's lips purse as he taps his chin and his foot, brows furrowing.

Edward shakes his head with a soft sigh. Despite popular belief (mostly among the crew, especially the newbies) he's not a miracle worker, nor does he always have the answer to everything. He's no scholar, nor a therapist; he's a simple pirate captain, an old man who's seen enough of the world in his long life to gain a semblance of understanding of it. And yet, he still has much to learn, and this discussion demonstrates as such.

(One thing he knows for certain is that everyone is different; something that may have worked over a decade ago may not work as well now, and certainly not with three, much younger people, who have dealt with their entrapment in vastly different ways.)

In the end, there's only so much Edward can do for those children. Everything else must be of their own accord, their own free will. Anything otherwise would make him a hypocrite of a pirate, and unworthy to carry the title of 'father'. Even if they're not _his_ children.

"The only thing we can do," he says eventually, "is protect them. Help them recover from their ordeal however we can and keep our distance if necessary. We'll let them come to understand our intentions in their own time. And if, in the next seven days, they desire to leave…then we must let them go."

Thatch visibly bristles. "But Pops –!"

Edward lifts his hand, silencing the irate chef. "I'm aware, son," he placates, "I know well of the risks, for them and those around them. However, it's not my place to decide what's best for them. They've lived their lives under the cruel tyranny of others long enough, and regardless of our intentions, I've no desire for them to go through anything even remotely similar. Their lives belong to them for the first time in many years; who are we to take that away?"

Thatch bites his lip, eyes averting elsewhere. He crosses his arms. "I…I know, Pops, I do," he says. "But – for god's sake they're just _kids…"_ his voice cracks just barely. Vista reaches and lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it once. Namur bumps his elbow against his other side, his shark-like smile a warm, compassionate thing. Gratitude shines in Thatch's eyes as he smiles softly at them both.

The man's heart bleeds for many, especially those in need; this Edward knows well. Perhaps that's what becomes of one who raised most if not all his younger siblings growing up, developing a fondness for young ones and a burning desire to never leave a single crushed soul neglected. A fine quality in any man, and a quality the old pirate knows is warring with what _needs_ to be done. Edward's heart aches for him.

"And besides," he adds, and the three of them look back up at their father. "Freedom is a precious thing. We, as pirates, should understand that better than most. They have the freedom now to make their own decisions, choose their own paths…no matter where it might lead them in the end."

His troubled commanders share another glance, and finally nod, conceding. They're torn, of course, and why shouldn't they be? Letting such fragile (and yet not) children go into the world so soon ever a terrifying, traumatizing experience as theirs doesn't sit right, not even with Edward.

But his words are true, and his decision is final. He will not force any of them to stay.

(Still, he laments, he wishes it were otherwise. He wishes, if it were not too soon, he could hold out his hand, offer to them what he'd offered to Marco years ago, and to every single member of his family since…

" _Join my crew, and I will call you my son.")_

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N~ Okay, soooo I've had a mixed week this week XD**

 **Amazing reviews, poor health, awesome inspiration bursts, no sleep, 3D2Y Special coming out in ENGLISH DUB (YAS) and no sleep XD So yeah, a mixed bag, but this one's finally coming out of the bag XD (...I suck at puns. Oh how I was i could draw power from Whitebeard and his legendary dad jokes.)  
**

 **Anyways, here goes the next chapter! WARNING: Sensitive themes ahead. If you're triggered, please proceed with caution.**

 **I OWN NOTHING. ALSO I'M NOT A DOCTOR, SO FORGIVE ANY INACCURACIES XD**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

 _I still swear that we can reign_

 _Like the kings and queens of better yesterdays._

* * *

Marco decides to poke his head through the door once an hour has come and gone. He looks across the steaming room at the kids.

They're still in the bathtub, quiet now, but for once the silence isn't a fearful one. Luffy's still playing with the bubbles, or what's left of them, but his slanted smile is lethargic; no doubt it's thanks to the water. Ace is no different, tiredly pouring water over Luffy's head and washing out the remnants of soapy bubbles in the younger boys' hair, gentle in his ministrations. Sabo is marginally better, though the riffraff from earlier (general lack of energy due to hunger, thirst, illness, god knows what else) leaves him slumping against the rim of the tub, droopy eyes observing his brothers.

Marco blinks. They…do know they're allowed to get out of the bath at any time, right? Or are they awaiting consent from Izo or Marco to do so before they fall asleep in the water?

The first commander shakes his head with a sigh, carefully shutting the door again. He leans against the wall, a finger tapping his chin. What should he do? What _can_ he do, really? They're timorous but comfortable enough around Izo, appeased by his smiles and patient indulgence in their former playfulness. But the man isn't here. Marco is. And if the glares he keeps getting from Ace and the wary glimpses from Sabo are anything to go by, his presence isn't quite welcome yet. He wonders if it ever will be.

They need to get dressed and see to Whiskey soon, in case they really are (physically) sick…but keeping them awake as they are now seems cruel. But he also doesn't want to scare them. God, this is uncomfortably close to how one might treat wild animals, a notion that disgusts the phoenix horribly. Seriously, where the _hell_ is Izo –?

"I'm back!"

" _Jiminy Freakin' –!"_ Marco curses and spins on the spot, flailing gracelessly, finding a very pleased cross-dresser standing a foot behind him, a basket of neatly folded clothes in his arms, most of which are vibrant in color compared to the ugly brown and greys of the boys' former garments. He's all done up now, having made time (somehow) to freshen up in the hour he'd been away, his wet kimono replaced.

Izo smirks. "Gotcha."

Marco frowns, barely withholding a pout that would make Haruta proud. "Don't do that, yoi," he mutters.

"Oh, but it really is such fun," Izo chuckles, unrepentant. He's been hanging out with Thatch, clearly. Can't have that for much longer. "How are the boys?" Izo asks. "Are they done with their bath?"

"Still in it. I think they're waiting on one of us to tell them to get out, yoi," Marco replies, and Izo groans.

"Oh good lord," he sighs, shaking his head. "Figures that would happen. Best get them out before they drown themselves, then." He then nods down at his basket, grinning proudly. "Look, I've already got three adorable outfits ready for them to put on. More are on the way, of course; my men are hard at work as we speak."

Marco blinks, hard. He shouldn't be surprised, because this is Izo, but still – " _All_ of your men?"

"Uh, _yes_?" Marco quickly decides he doesn't like the look his brother gives him, one that might imply he is an uncultured idiot. "You know as well as I that boys go through clothes like crazy, always getting into ridiculous shenanigans." Izo pauses, considering, and shrugs a shoulder. "Or maybe that's just you lot –"

" _Oi_."

"– so I want to make sure they'll have plenty to spare, everything they might need during their stay. I heard tell that the next island we're docking at is a winter one, so I've set Kenga, Jules, O'Brien and a dozen others on prepping appropriate the winter wear; some boots, of course some fluffy scarves to match their coats – colour coordination _is_ important, don't you dare fight me on this, you will lose – and maybe some woolly hats –"

Marco swiftly raises a hand to silence Izo before he can possibly go any further. His smile is bewildered, but no less sincere. "You're really going all out on these kids, aren't you?" he says, and lowers his hand to shove both in his pockets. He tils his head, his smile broadening. "You hardly do the same for any of _us_ , yoi."

Izo regards his smile for a moment and then huffs, nose upturned. " _Please_ , I do more for you ungrateful bastards than you realize," he grouses without heat. "Besides, they're children and our guests. Someone has to be a good host, and I'd like to think myself as such." He steps around Marco to enter the shower room, cheerfully announcing his presence to the boys.

Marco chuckles under his breath, trying and failing quite spectacularly not to feel like a hypocrite when he muses how taken the crew have already become by the three stowaways as he follows Izo inside.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Minutes later, the boys are following the commanders once more through the halls, dried off and fully clothed.

Despite his eccentrics, Marco must admit Izo really hadn't been lying about the new outfits; they fit near perfectly, transforming the trio completely from what they once were.

Sabo now dons a pair of black boots and knee-length shorts, royal blue to match his button-up, the sleeves rolled to the elbows and the buttons left unfastened on his own accord, revealing the black t-shirt underneath. Luffy tugs curiously at the hem of his new black tank top, giggling at the grinning monkey face printed on the front (and how the _hell_ had they any time for that?), comfortable in the denim shorts and sandals which he seems to adore. Ace seems comfortable in his new combat boots, matching black cargo shorts that fall just short of the knee, fastened by a belt with an 'A' on the buckle. His tank top is a dark red, and Marco might have imagined the slight smile on his face upon reading the word 'fire' printed at the front. The smile is nowhere to be seen now, replaced with his default scowl as he shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling Marco's eyes on him.

The first mate is impressed, awed almost. Take away the hallowed cheeks and malnourished frames, they look like ordinary teenagers. And dammit, even with Sabo's down-turned eyes and nervous twitching and Ace's permanent frown…they're almost _cute._ The shy little smile Luffy sends his way certainly isn't doing his poor heart any favors, either.

"I'm a genius," Izo whispers over his shoulder, followed by a truly smug wink. Marco rolls his eyes, but he lets him have this. He's earned it.

Whiskey is waiting for them when they reach the infirmary, leaning against the door-frame with her arms crossed and a single brow raised at the commanders, the picture of beautiful impatience. "Took you long enough," she gripes.

Izo crosses his arms, trying and failing not to sulk petulantly. "Well _sorry_ for wanting them to look nice," he mutters, turning his head away with an indignant sniff. Marco pats his shoulder, praying for patience. These two hardly ever see eye to eye, and only god knows why. Honestly, Marco can't bring himself to care.

Whiskey rolls her eyes heavenward at Izo's dramatics, but she's quick to smile down at the three boys. "Hello, boys," she says kindly (and good _god_ is that a strange thing to hear from such a brash woman). "My name is Whiskey, and I'm the head nurse here aboard the Moby Dick. I'm just going to give you three a quick check-up to make sure you're okay, see if you've contracted any sort of illness or in case you have any medical conditions or allergies that the medical staff need to be made aware of for as long as you sail with us. Is that okay with you?"

Sabo glances up at her once only to duck his head back down in the next instant with a mumbled "Yes, ma'am." Ace's cheeks have a mild, but quite noticeable pink tint to the pale, freckled skin, and averting his gaze from her does little to hide it. Luffy offers the head nurse a bashful smile and a little wave, his other hand clasping Ace's sweaty palm.

(Marco wants to laugh _so bad._ But he does want Ace to like him, and would rather his head stay where it is and not incur the wrath of Whiskey. Her anger rivals Whitebeard's on a bad day.)

But Izo has no such inhibitions, and he snickers behind his hand. "So _precious_ ," he whispers to Marco, the first mate struggling to keep his silence and his smile as Whiskey beckons the boys inside, smiling all the while, ignoring the snorting pirates.

Ace casts a final look over his shoulder to see if either commander is following. Marco doesn't take it personally when the boy looks the slightest bit relieved before moseying after his brothers.

Whiskey shuts the door behind them and pins the commanders with a stern look; the sunny smile is long gone, but her frown is not unkind. "Normally, Marco, I'd be more than willing to let you in to help with this sort of thing," she says, "but right now I can't have anyone of a higher rank hanging around any longer than necessary. They're incredibly nervous as it is, and I need them calm; your presence might give the impression they're being guarded, and not in a manner that induces a sense of security. I trust the room is finished and ready for them to occupy?" She turns to Izo, who nods once. "Good. I'll have June escort them there once I'm done and report to the commanders' room. If they're willing, I'll share what I've learned. In the meantime –"

"Scram," Izo and Marco harmonize with rueful smiles. "We get it, yoi. I'll have Rakuyo get his tools set for those cuffs once you give the all clear," Marco adds. With a nod to the first mate, Whiskey slips back into the infirmary, shutting the door with finality.

In the lingering hush of the empty hallway, the two commanders trade a look. With the boys free from their care, Marco…well, almost feels at a loss as of what to do now. He won't deny that he's become somewhat attached to the brats, though they've shown no signs of reciprocating, distrustful of his every move like deer in an open meadow.

(Perhaps it's the phoenix in him, vehemently objecting the idea of leaving such helpless…hatchlings (good god) on their own, even when said 'hatchlings' are not wholly without defences, even with a woman he trusts with his life. He politely tells her to shut the hell up and calm down.)

"Well," Izo sighs, shattering the silence at last as he spins on his heel, "I believe I'll go check on the progress my men are making with the boys' clothes in the interim." He glances at Marco over his shoulder, and Marco quickly decides he doesn't like the shape of the cross-dresser's smile. "I trust you'll be updating Pops…or are you gonna give in to mother nature and make a nest out here 'til the boys come out?"

Marco does _not_ pout, but it's a very close thing. "Shut up, yoi."

Izo only laughs as he walks away, disappearing down the hall with a flashy swish of his robes, and Marco watches him go; despite the playful jeers (something he's no stranger too, as a brother and as a carrier of his devil fruit) he does linger by the door a moment longer, frowning. Part of him wants to risk Whiskey's fury and go in, to see for himself that the boys are alright…and maybe to prepare the nurse for what she might see.

(Slavery leaves more than mere mental scars. And though Whiskey has seen countless wounds, some so horrible it churns even Marco's gut with repugnance at the thought…he wonders if she can handle seeing anything of the kind on the body of a child. Whitebeard barely could, years ago, and an island had suffered his wrath for it.)

His inner phoenix croons and hisses at him as he ultimately turns away and heads for the main deck, leaving the infirmary behind. They'll be fine. Whiskey will take care of them. You worry too much, phoenix.

(He really might have to go break something to appease her at this rate. A chair might do.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Barely two hours later, Whiskey is storming into the commanders meeting room with a dark look on her face that has everyone, even captain Whitebeard himself, tense up with worry as they clear a path for her. She has a file clenched in one hand and a bottle of her namesake in the other, already half empty, which she slams down on the table after taking a mighty belt of it.

The fact that Pops, for once, withholds making a remark the irony of a nurse chugging alcohol when _he_ shouldn't be speaks volumes.

Marco shares a glance with Thatch, and the two pirates are in perfect accord. _Something's wrong._

Whitebeard gives the woman a moment to compose herself before he speaks. "What's the news, my daughter?" he asks. There's no pity in his rumbling voice, she doesn't need it. But the warmth is there as always, warring with concern both for the woman he considers his own and their new young charges.

Eventually, the nurse heaves a sigh and rakes a hand through her hair, undoing the neat bun, meeting the gazes of the gathered commanders their captain. "…before I begin," she says, her voice low and carrying a dangerous, nigh bloodthirsty undertone that is rare from one who endeavors to heal, "is it too late for us to turn back and kill every single heartless bastard in that castle on that godforsaken island?"

No one winces, rears back or gawks at her like they might've done had they been ignorant. Instead, every head turns to the captain sitting at the head of the table. The man is penitent as he shakes his head. "I'm afraid so," he says. Whiskey looks livid, ready to argue, until Whitebeard raises a placating hand. "But that doesn't mean we don't have allies sailing nearby that will have no reservations on paying them a surprise visit."

Marco has never been a bloodthirsty man, by nature or nurture. But this comes close enough, and the grin he shares with Thatch and Blenheim is a dark, near feral thing that appeases his enraged phoenix within. The other thirteen commanders are no different, a breath away from brandishing their weapons it seems. Regarding each of them a moment longer, Whiskey nods once, satisfied for now.

The mood quickly shifts when the nurse lays down the file and opens it, plucking a single sheet laden with scrawl that Marco can't hope to decipher. "I've scribbled down some notes for each of the boys and their conditions," she says, all professional calm under the eyes of the commanders and the caring gaze of their father as they all lean forward. "Mental stability and obvious signs of undernourishment aside – I'll give you the nutrition plan in a moment, Thatch – here's what I have. Bear in mind that I've asked for their explicit consent to share this with all of you and you alone…though something tells me they wouldn't have refused whether I asked or not…"

Whitebeard nods. "Understood. Nothing you share with us shall leave this room." The unspoken warning in his grim tone is clear, and as one the commanders nod, giving the nurse their full attention.

With that, Whiskey continues. "They all have brands on the center of their backs. It's the symbol of the King, some lowlife bastard named Serge. Luffy, age twelve and seven months, has faint scars around his neck, possibly left behind by a collar of some kind, signs of strangulation, and multiple bruises on his knees, forearms and elbows. Scars from whips and canes are healing, but might be permanent. No allergies aside from dust, really."

The aura of the room shifts the moment Whiskey mentioned the brands – Marco's skin crawls at the reminder of what those brands mean, what they do to a person's head for years, and that's _if_ they escape and live to tell the tale – but now, the killing intent fills the room, thick and heavy that one might choke should they enter without warning.

Undeterred, Whiskey picks up the second sheet. "Sabo, age fifteen and nine months, has third degree burn scars on the left side of his face; he can still see through the left eye just fine, thankfully. He also sustains multiple bruises along his back, arms, legs and chest, belt scars on his back just above the brand…too close to his neck for comfort. He's allergic to feathers, but that's minor in nature." She sets that paper down, and hesitates to pick up the other, one with a paperclip attaching a picture Marco can't quite see from his standing.

Anger burns in her eyes, hotter than any flame, as she picks up the file and reads it aloud. "Ace is fifteen and eleven months, sixteen on January first. Ace's injuries are similar; whippings, bruising left behind from chains, irritated skin from what I suspect might be from jewellery and makeup of sorts."

Marco frowns. "Jewellery and makeup, yoi?"

Whiskey turns to him. "From what he was willing to share with me, he was one of the Kings' prized performers," she says. Her scowl is a cavernous, dark thing. "Apparently, he was a dancer."

A few heads tilt, some bows furrowing, mutters floating among the gathered commanders. "A dancer?" Jozu echoes, sharing understandably bewildered glances with Atmos and Curiel.

But Izo huffs through his nose and crosses his arms. "That explains a few things," he says. All eyes fall on him. "He's thin, but he's got a better build than Sabo or Luffy do, leaner if anything. It makes sense they'd have kept him in better shape if he performed on a stage. No one wants to see a half-starved, exhausted dancer after all." Painted lips draw downward, wrath in the dark eyes that bore holes into the wooden table. Beside him, Haruta links their arms, lacing their fingers and squeezing tight. Izo squeezes back, grateful.

"If you think _that's_ bad," Whiskey plucks the photograph off the sheet and sets it in the center of the table, "look at this. Medical records are strictly confidential, as are pictures. But in this case, I've asked Ace for explicit permission to show this to you. He's…sensitive about this."

And it's no wonder. Not even Marco can withhold the horrified gasp that tears his throat and that of his fellow pirates at the horror he sees.

Ace also has a brand, a diamond-like shape with a bold 'S' in the center burned into the skin. But you can barely see it behind the absolute **_mess_** of the teenagers' back. There are discolorations that are black and nauseating green, a multitude of lash marks, burns…it's a miracle the boy is even _standing_ at this rate, let alone walking and, according to Pops _, fighting._

Marco has been in countless battles in his time as a pirate, seen countless, unspeakable things of what this world has to offer, what it throws at your feet without a word of warning; bodies in the remnants of a war or plague on islands forsaken by the government, his own brothers and sisters lost in confrontation whose deaths haunt him to this very day. But this…this is a _boy,_ a fifteen-year-old _child,_ and –

 _It's too close, too close –_

(He understands, now, Ace's caution around them in the showers, Whiskey's rage. And he doubts this is even the worst of it, if he was a 'performer'…)

Call him a coward if you will, but he can't bear to look at the photo any longer. He takes a step back, breathing deep, measured. _Get it together. Control yourself._

He's not the only one; Izo's hand flies to slap over his mouth as he turns away, shoulders trembling like he's about to be ill. Haruta whispers reassurances in his ear, holding tight to his arm, though his own hands twitch and clench against the fabrics of Izo's robes; he's itching for his blades, to tear into something, anything. Even their most seasoned commanders rear back, some grind their teeth, others curse ferociously under their breaths.

Amid all of this, Pops is completely silent, staring at the photo of Ace's mangled back. Not even the first mate can decrypt the old man's expression.

Then Thatch staggers, incredibly pale. Only Marco's swift reflexes save him from falling over completely as he shakes, staring at the photo with wide eyes. "Oh god…I…I slapped him on the back," he gasps, shaking his head, dazed and utterly horrified. "L-Last night…I was drunk, and I thought – I had no idea –"

He faces his first commander, eyes shining, shame so deep it must shake his very bones. "I _hit_ him, Marco. Holy mother of god on high…he must _hate_ me…"

(The burning desire to destroy is almost too much for Marco to bear, and the phoenix within sings her haunting melody of reckoning. It's all the blond can do to keep her at bay, keep himself from flying back to that island and burning it to the ground.)

"Mother of _god,"_ Curiel curses, fists quaking. "What the hell did those bastards _do_ to this kid? The other two don't look nearly this bad!"

"Did he…have to _dance_ like that, too?" Namur croaks, looking green in the face. Fishmen don't bruise the way humans do; though they bleed like any creature, their scales don't discolor or harden. Marco can imagine this isn't a pretty sight for him, not that his human siblings fare much better. "They…they can't have –"

"I'm sure they'd have figured something out, maybe covered his back while he was on stage," Whiskey says, and in contrast to her fellow shipmates, her voice is even; not at all dispassionate, but her anger has quelled (only slightly) amid her sibling's shock and growing ire. "They don't trust me enough to tell me any more than what I've told you, but it's enough. More than enough, really. I've asked June to take them to their room for now. They're exhausted, hungry, and need every kind of help one can think of."

"And that is what we shall give them," Whitebeard rumbles, standing to his full, imposing height. Marco can see now that his father's eyes are a hurricane, untameable, waiting to unleash hell upon anything that dares stumble into its path. He can feel his aura, barely suppressing what might render their even strongest commanders unconscious. The anger of a father is a powerful thing, after all.

(Whether they're a part of the crew or not, Ace, Sabo and Luffy are now under Whitebeard's protection. There's an unspoken rule among pirates; you harm anyone under Whitebeard's care, you've signed your own death warrant.

It's clear now, what fate of that supposed 'king' Serge has in store, having incurred the wrath of Edward Newgate.)

"For now," the captain continues, "I believe it best that they're fed and freed from the seastone. Rehabilitation can come later, once they're well rested." The storm abates after a moment, the pressing aura lifting, so he can offer Whiskey a proud smile. "Thank you, Whiskey. I know it wasn't easy, nor was is it at all pleasant to hear, but you've done well."

Whiskey's smile is a weary thing, but it's spades better than the alternative. "Thanks, Pops. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with my bed and this bottle," she raises her namesake and gives it a little shake, earning a chuckle from the commanders; the mood has lifted somewhat, more so when she gathers the papers, hiding the mangled spine of the fifteen-year-old from their sight at last.

Thatch lets out a shaky breath, sagging against Marco as he swipes a hand over his sweaty brow. There's guilt in his eyes, and Marco knows it won't go away until he's found a means to redeem himself, whether his actions were accidental or not.

Whiskey turns to Thatch. "First things first, I'd feel better knowing they've eaten something before they rest. As far as I'm aware they've had nothing since yesterday – Luffy apologizes for the apples, by the way," she says, smirking when Thatch – and everyone else in the room, Whitebeard included – blink hard and gawp.

"W-Wait, _what?"_ Thatch squawks, jabbing a thumb at the door at his back, "you mean – _Luffy_? That _tiny,_ little, baby-faced – _he –?!"_

"Eyup. Explains the vomit, though. Kid can't handle so much at once and made himself sick." She hands Thatch several sheets of paper, which he takes with a bit of fumbling. "Here's the nutrition plan. Follow it to the letter and they should be fine within the next few weeks to move onto bigger portions. As for their injuries, I've already had them cleaned and bandaged. Ace's…bruises, if you can really call them that _,_ are repairable; serious bruising can cause complications, and further bleeding and excess fluid may accumulate, causing a hard, fluctuating lump or swelling hematoma, but we caught it early, luckily. This," she taps the sheets in Thatch's hand as he scans it briefly, "should help with all that, and more. And not to inflate your ego any more than it is, but I trust you're the best man for the job, Thatch."

Eyes go wide all around, and Marco fights a laugh as Thatch splutters. Whiskey giving _Thatch_ a genuine _compliment?_ Inconceivable! Nevertheless, it does wonders for the chef's mood as he seems to quite literally light up with a hearty salute befitting of a navy officer than a pirate. "You got it, Whiskey!" he chimes. "Won't let you down, no ma'am!"

Whiskey snorts, a very unladylike sound, as she heads for the door. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to listen to any of that crap," she tosses over her shoulder, slipping through the door to a chorus of teasing laughter from the commanders.

Whitebeard grins. "On that note, you're all dismissed," he announces. As the others make their way out, the old captain pauses to regard his eldest. "Marco, you said you and Rakuyo have business to take care of?" he asks.

Marco nods, bumping his shoulder against Thatch's to usher him out of the room along with Rakuyo; he'll join them in a bit, they know, and so they leave with a brief farewell to Pops. "I'll be joining them to see to the brats one more time, yoi," he replies. "Rakuyo's gonna get those cuffs off for them. Might be a big step in earning their trust, and hopefully getting them to stay long enough to heal up." He arches a brow at his father, and though he has an inkling of the answer, he goes ahead and asks, "What're _you_ gonna do in the meantime, Pops?"

The grin he receives in reply from the veteran pirate could freeze even the boiling blood in Admiral Akainu's veins. "I believe," Whitebeard says slowly, "I have a call to make. Whitey Bay was last seen patrolling those waters if I recall. Let's hope she doesn't mind making a brief stop at Garnet Island."

Marco grins back.

(It's little moments like this that remind Marco (not that he needs to be reminded, really) of why he loves his captain and father, why he'll gladly follow him to the depths of hell and back. Even if it means leveling an entire castle and its inhabitants.

It might seem needlessly cruel, heartless even. The Marines may call it savage, a typical 'pirate' act of viciousness against an otherwise harmless kingdom in Paradise. But the Whitebeard's, despite their standing among certain islands that bear their flag, even among other pirates that cross their path, are not saints. Not even close.

The first commander only wishes he could see that little hellhole burn first-hand.)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N~ Hello, lovelies! Thank you so much again for your reviews, so encouraging and helpful! This chapter came out so quick only because I've had the first half in my drafts for AGES, waiting to put it into a chapter that'll fit without making the chapter too long. Hope it flows well enough XD  
**

 **Also, those of you who are worried that Ace was a sex slave, rest assured, he wasn't. No way was I gonna head down that road, but his 'performance' background will be explained soon enough. And those waiting for Shanks or even Garp to show up...ehehehehehe. I have plans XD**

 **Without further delay, chapter 8!**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy :)**

 ***also, from now on, I won't bother adding the song lyrics to every chapter. The song isn't long enough for this story XD yeah, this is gonna be longer than expected.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 _And you know I've been burned_

 _You see me lose control._

* * *

 _There's a sudden bang of wood against stone, and Ace jumps, looks over his shoulder._

 _The King_ _ _strides into the extravagance of the throne room, his cape flaring with his every step; he's_ closely followed by his daughter (and Luffy, still on the collar and chain) and several flustered servants. The man's displeasure fills the room, and every slave ducks their heads and quickly turn back to whatever task they've been assigned. Even Sabo seems to cower in the presence of this horrible man as he gets back to dusting the statues along the walls._

 _Ace keeps scrubbing the marble floor, his head down, but his eyes are trained on the ruler and his little brother shuffling after the spoiled bitch. It's a marvel she's still hauling him around after what happened. Must be because he's…he's…_

 _(Ace would give anything,_ anything, _to hear Luffy's voice again. To hear him scream about his dream to the heavens, to hear him laugh wildly – he'd rather him blubber over a grazed knee like the baby he is than watch him suffer in silence._

 _Still, he thinks, it's better than dead. Luffy has to live. So does Sabo. He'd gladly take every one of their punishments and his own to ensure that.)_

 _The King is complaining, vociferously, of how his precious food stocks have been 'contaminated' by the presence of a foreign fruit that has somehow managed to slip past the attention of the deliverymen. The servants beseech otherwise, holding up the fruit from where it rests in a bundle of cloth._ _Ace gets a good look at it from the corner of his eye and wonders how in the hell anyone could've missed such a large, vibrant_ _thing; the fruit is bigger than a man's palm, the skin a fiery orange with swirling patterns to match, and a curling green stem at the head._

 _It doesn't look all that appetizing, if he's honest. Doesn't look poisonous, either. How could it contaminate anything?_

 _"Enough of your nattering!" the King booms, spinning on the startled servants with a swish of his cape. "I demand to know who would dare sneak a devil fruit into_ my _storage!"_

 _Ace stiffens. He hears the faintest gasp from Sabo and sees Luffy twitch beside the princess._ 'A devil fruit?' _Ace thinks._ 'That's a real-life devil fruit?'

 _The princess laughs, one dainty hand under her chin. "Whoever picked such a disgusting fruit must have thought they could trick you, father," she titters. "They'll surely be executed when you find out who did it! Teeheehee!"_

 _"My lord," one servant offers, "perhaps you should eat the fruit! The taste is ghastly, I hear, but just think – you'll have a power so few in the Grand Line have access to. You'll be the most powerful ruler in these waters!"_

 _The King huffs, crossing his arms. "And forsake the ability to swim? I think not, it's far too great a risk." He sniffs derisively. "Heaven forbid I could even drink again, for the liquid may weaken me from the inside and render me helpless."_

'What an idiot' _Ace thinks, barely holding in a laugh._

 _"Well," says another servant, rubbing his hands together in a greedy fashion Ace recognizes from the assholes back in High Town, "we could perhaps sell it for a high price. I know the Government is always looking for more devil fruit users to add to their arsenal –"_

 _"No! I say we feed one to a slave!" the princess says, a mean grin on her ugly face. "It could be funny, watching them squirm and gag at the taste! Ooh, what if they get a stupid ability, like their body turning into bubbles or sludge? Teeheehee!"_

 _The King regards his daughter and hums thoughtfully stroking his chin. Ace feels his stomach churn with dread. Even more so when, after roaming about the room, his eyes land on Ace kneeling nearby._

 _He involuntarily flinches._ Uh oh.

 _"Bring him," the King orders. The servants jump to comply, and they each grab Ace by an arm and by the hair, dragging him up and across the room despite his struggle. Luffy starts to tremble behind the princess, and he can feel Sabo's wide eyes watching him as they force Ace to his knees before the King, the devil fruit in hand. One servant grabs Ace's chin and forces his jaw open._

 _The man's smile is a truly wicked thing as he leans forward. "Open wide," he leers, and then all but shoves the fruit into Ace's gaping mouth._

 _He fights it with all he has, but the hands in his hair and digging into his arms sting and stab with a vengeance as they hold him down. He's gonna choke at this rate, but he can't eat it. What if it really_ is _a dumb power and renders him useless to his brothers, more than he already is? But the King won't stop until it's gone, until he's forced it down Ace's gullet or kills him in his efforts._

 _So Ace squeezes his eyes shut, prays to a god he doesn't believe in, and swallows the damn thing whole, spluttering. It really is disgusting._

 _A moment of silence passes. All eyes are on the kneeling boy, fear and anticipation in the air. For a time, nothing happens._

 _Ace blinks, looks down at himself as much as he can with the fingers clenching his hair. He doesn't…feel any different. Does he_ look _any different? Hm. Maybe it was a fake –_

 ** _"Grk –!"_**

 _And then something surges within him, throbbing and burning and_ _ **painful**_.

 _His mangled back arches as the pain worsens; he can barely breathe, hands clawing at his chest as the burning sensation spreads, enveloping him. His heart pounds in his ears so loud he can barely hear the princess laughing at him as he falls to his side, the servants backing away in fright. He hardly hears Luffy whimper, Sabo whispering his name over and over like a prayer._

 _He shuts his eyes, sweat pouring down his face as he gasps for air. Holy god is this what it was like for Luffy?! What's_ happening _to him?! It's too much, too much, it hurts oh god it_ _ **hurts –**_

 _Ace screams, and his body bursts into flames._

 _There's screaming, shouting, people running away as the flames encircle Ace's form, licking at the floors and walls with a wild, frenzied glee that Ace c_ an f _eel over the fear pulsing through him. He scrambles to his feet(?), trying and failing to stomp the fire out before he burns to cinders._

 _Sabo screams his name. And despite everything – oh god he's on fire he's on_ fire why isn't he **_dead_** yet?! – _at his brothers' cry, the flames…they…_

 _They seem to_ respond _, heeding Ace's thoughts as they seep into his skin, dissipating little by little until only faint flickers remain, in his hair, on his shoulders and fingertips. He's shaking terribly, breaths thick and heaving from his chest, sweat dripping off his chin and along his brow. What the hell…?_

 _He looks at his hands, the glowing embers on his fingertips. He's – he's fine. No blood, no burns or scars, nothing. He's whole, unscathed. And with a jolt, he realizes the fire isn't even hot to the touch when it should be blistering. It's almost_ cool _against his skin, like it_ is _skin…_

 _He looks up and sees Sabo backed up against the wall, holding Luffy close – he'd been abandoned by the princess in her fearful plight. They stare at him, mouths agape; there's no fear in their eyes, only confusion and amazement. The tiniest smile splits Ace's face, a short, breathless laugh escaping him, one his brothers mimic as he looks back down at his hands, at the fire swirling around his wrists as though embracing him, like they've always been a part of him._

 _Ace can control fire. No. Ace_ **is** _fire. And with this new power, they have a chance. They can get out of here. They can be_ free _again._

 _His moment of amazement is fleeting, however, as the guards finally arrive in droves, weapons in hand and their eyes fixed on Ace. Ace spins on his heel to glare at them, the flames pulsing and flaring to the beat of his heart, the song of his rage. He sweeps an arm with a yell, and with it a plume of new flames bursts forth. The guards rear back, some in agony some in terror, a wall of fire blocking their path._

 _Ace grins wickedly – the King was a freaking_ idiot, _this power is_ awesome _– and hurries to Sabo and Luffy. The fire doesn't touch them. "Come on!" he shouts, grabbing Sabo's hand, and the three of them make for the main doors of the throne room. The fire responds, an extension of the boy himself, and clears a path for them to run through without hindrance, keeping the terrified guards at bay._

 _They run through the hallway, linked at the hands, freedom in their sights, and Ace wracks his brain furiously; he can't remember how to get to the main castle gates. The only other option is to go out the window, but they're way too high up –_

 _Ace feels a tug behind him, vicious and angry, and a strangled gag. Sabo cries out. "Luffy!"_

 _Ace whirls on his heel, and the princess is there with Luffy's chain in hand, the little boy on the floor grasping at the collar around his neck as he wheezes. Where the hell did she come from? Hadn't she run off with her father?_

 _The girl's face is twisted and red with rage. "Where do you think you're going with my pet, you nasty little heathens?!" she squeals like the rotten little pig she is. "He's mine,_ my _property! I'll have you all executed!" She tugs the chain again and Luffy cries out, tears pricking his eyes as he fights to breathe._

 _Ace's growl is low and feral as he faces the princess proper, hands clenched into shaking fists. For all that he's no idea how to use this devil fruit, not beyond the fact that the flames respond to his thoughts and emotions, he knows exactly what to do now. He ignites his right fist. The princess recoils, pales, staring at the hot orange flames enveloping his hand as he steps closer._

 _She screams as he raises his fist, his fire burning brighter and hotter in gleeful preparation. He's waited a long time to do this –_

 _"Ace, look out –!"_

 ** _SPLASH!_**

 _And suddenly the fire is gone, extinguished as he's doused with ice-cold water from behind._

 _Shivering, shock threatening to overcome him as water cascades down his body, Ace turns and sees the King returning with an entourage of guards all carrying buckets of water. The boy snarls, lighting his hands up again, only for the guards to throw their buckets over him, over and over until Ace is on his knees, dizzy and weak, his flames successfully quelled. Over his coughing fit, he hears Sabo cursing, fighting against the hold of another guard._

 _He shuts his eyes, clenching his jaw. They're caught, surrounded. They were so_ close _._

 _The King steps forward, glowering down at the drenched boy at his feet. Hair sticking to his drenched face, Ace raises his eyes with a vicious sneer of his own. He might be soaked and shivering as a wet dog, but he can still bite off a finger or two._

 _The slap he gets in response sends Ace bowling sideways with a grunt, splashing into the puddle surrounding him. Such a hit normally wouldn't faze him, but the water…god, he feels so_ weak _, useless. Is this what Luffy feels like every time he falls into a stream?_

 _"How dare you," the King seethes, breathing hard like it's all he can do to keep what remains of his composure. "You – You set fire to_ my _castle, try to murder my_ daughter –!"

 _"You never should've given me the damn fruit in the first place!" Ace screams, his voice resonant in the halls, ringing in his own ears as his senses realign themselves. The King backpedals in outrage, but Ace isn't done. Not by a long shot. "We don't belong to you! We're not your tools or pets or playthings!_ YOU DON'T OWN US! **NOBODY** **DOES!"**

 _Silence reigns. The King and his surrounding guards stare at Ace with eyes the size of saucers. Ace doesn't back down, wishing he had his fire now to burn this husk of a man to ashes._

 _The King blinks, and then his teeth bare into a snarl, like he's moments away from frothing at the mouth in his rage. He raises his hand, curling it into a tight fist that shakes. "You –!"_

 _"Your highness!" a cry from the guards still trapped behind the wall of flames stays the King's hand, and the man looks up. It's only now that Ace registers the building thickness of black smoke billowing from the throne room, filling the lungs of those unfortunate enough to be taller than an eleven-year-old. Even the princess is spluttering behind her hand, while Luffy remains safely curled up on the floor, tugging his shirt over his nose. "We can't stop the fires! They'll spread all over the castle at this rate! We need help!"_

 _"Bring more water!" another guard shouts as pandemonium erupts around them._

 _"There's no time!"_

 _"Please, we're suffocating in here!"_

 _"Somebody put out the damn fire!"_

 _It's then that the King, desperate and pale in the face as he watches his precious throne room and the riches within go up in smoke, turns back to Ace. He grabs the boy by the hair and yanks him to his feet. "_ You _did this. If you value your life," he growls, their faces inches apart, "you will quell these flames at once!"_

 _Ace claws at the hand in his hair, gritting his teeth against the pain. "I-I don't know how!" he spits._

 _The king shakes him roughly. "I'll have your head, boy! Stop the fires,_ _ **now!"**_

 _"I told you, I don't know_ how!" _He winces when he's thrown back to the ground unceremoniously in the King's outrage, landing on his back. He's too late to bite back the whimper as agony laces through him anew. Dammit to hell –_

 _"Ace!" Sabo shouts, struggling in the guard's unrelenting grasp. His voice lures the eyes of the King as he turns, regarding the young blond for a moment. He looks at the fire raging strong and getting stronger, hotter, and then back to Sabo. His gaze returns to Ace as the boy shifts onto his knees, fighting the urge to hurl._

 _The King is suddenly calm, his face a mask of indifference. Ace doesn't like it._

 _The man slowly folds his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on Ace alone. "Guard," he says. "That child you have. Put his face into the fire."_

 _The blood drains from Ace's face, leaving him deathly white._

No. No, wait –

 _Sabo gasps, a fearfully ragged sound, and then he's thrashing violently in the guard's arms as he drags him towards the swelling blazes. Luffy starts crying, fat tears pouring down his face as he slaps his hands over his mouth to soften the sobs. The princess is laughing through her coughing fit, a mad sort of elation in her eyes as she watches the guard draw closer and closer to the flames._

 _Ace can't breathe, think, feel anything but the cold talons of_ fear _sinking into him, turning his heart, his fire, to shards of piercing ice._

No. No, you can't, Sabo, they _can't –_

 _He whirls on the King. "Stop! Stop it, don't hurt him!" he cries,_ begs, _screw his pride._

 _The King only shrugs, nonchalant. "Only if you put out the fire," he says simply._

 _"I don't know_ **how!"** _Ace screams. Something wet stings and pricks behind his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall, digging his nails into his palms to keep them at bay. "Please just – I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please let him go –!"_

 _"Ace!" Sabo's desperate cry hitches like he's crying, oh god – "Ace, help me!"_

 _Horror clutches him like never before, streaming through his veins, choking him, bringing him to his knees. "You can't do this!"_

 _"Of course I can," the King retorts, as though they're conversing the weather and not the well-being, the life, of one of the few people Ace has left to live for. "I own him, as I own you. I may do whatever I wish with my property."_

 _"You –!"_

 _And then Sabo starts_ _ **screaming**_.

 _Ace freezes. Everything else fades into silence; the princess shrill laughter, the roar and crackle of the flames, the guards shouting at each other to put out the inferno. Everything except Sabo's screams, his own throbbing heartbeat, Luffy's terrified sobbing as the boy slams his hands over his ears –_

 _"STOP!" Ace scrambles for the King's robes and tugs with bloody fingers, his eyes wild and pleading as they meet the man's emotionless gaze. "Please stop, let him go, let him_ go!"

 _"Call off the fires, wretch! Do that, and your friend might live!"_

 _"I DON'T KNOW HOW!" his voice breaks, and he hangs his head in despair. This can't be happening, this isn't happening, what can he do what does he do Sabo's gonna die and it's his fault_ he started theflamesit's **allhisfault** ** _HISFAULTSABOSABONO –_**

 ** _"ACE!"_** _Sabo screeches. Ace's eyes fly wide open –_

 _Something tugs at Ace from deep inside, a pull so fierce it rivals the song of his flames, demanding his attention, his very essence as it pulls harder and harder, compressing tightly, begging to be released. Until finally –_

 ** _"STOP IT! THAT'S ENOUGH!"_**

 _Something_ explodes _from within Ace, and it's not fire. But it's just as powerful, shaking the very foundations of the room, shattering glass, roaring like a raging beast in his ears. The flames vanish, extinguished in a single breath, and with them, several guards plus the formerly giggling princess collapse to the ground in a graceless heap, frothing at the mouths, eyes rolling into their skulls._

 _Amid all of this, Ace quakes uncontrollably where he kneels. Everything spins, his ears ringing, shapes and colors leaden and indistinct like he's underwater. He swallows thickly, his dry throat protesting, and he turns slowly. He can just see Sabo, him and the guard both on the ground. The guard doesn't even twitch, but Sabo trembles where he lays, panting hard and whimpering, hands hovering tentatively over his left eye. Ace can faintly smell burning flesh. Not far from Ace, Luffy stares at him with impossibly wide eyes._

 _Ace sways on his knees. It's too much. He can't – he's gonna be – it's too much –_

 _"…what…?" he hears above him; the King, the only one still conscious. There's awe in his wavering voice, fear…and intrigue. "…what did you do?"_

 _Ace doesn't reply, couldn't if he wanted to. The last thing he sees is Luffy reaching out for him as the world tilts and spirals into darkness._

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Sabo is having a crisis.

Nothing particularly dire (a nice change), but enough to render him in a near permanent state of quiet bewilderment as he sits on the bed, one out of three bunks in the new room they've been given.

(Oh, yeah, another thing to add to the rapidly growing list of crazy things happening to them today; they have a _room._ Not a dank old cell that smells of fear and blood and vermin waste, but an actual, furnished _room._ With _three beds._ And a _desk.)_

The room itself is spacious and brightly lit, both by a lantern on the wall by the door and by the midday sunlight streaming through the porthole with light grey curtains hanging in either side. The three beds, lined up side by side against the wall opposite the door, are bouncy and soft (something Luffy had immediately taken advantage of and is now happily bouncing away on his own bed), with plush pillows and thick quilts. They're even color-coded with brand new sheets; royal blue for Sabo, red for Ace and sunshine yellow for Luffy. The desk, touched-up and polished, is situated under the porthole on the right side, offering a perfect light source for late reading or writing. On the other side of the room, a row of shelves lines the wall ready to be filled, along with an old treasure chest that has since been repainted in bright, bold colors.

With the modest, circular rug in front of the beds and a chest of drawers by the shelves, the whole room is incredibly warm and inviting. Almost homey. A personal touch is all it needs to make it fit for three growing boys.

Said boys – or one of them, at least – is currently in the middle of a minor existential crisis as he hugs his knees to his chest, watching Luffy giggle in delight as he springs on his lush, yellow quilted bed.

The young blond is having a hard time wrapping his head around this. Not just the room, but...well, _everything._

Since being discovered, they've been treated with nothing but kindness by the fearsome crew of pirates. The captain – who's quarters they'd invaded, whom they'd _attacked,_ whom Sabo had tried to _bite_ – had offered them a place to stay instead of crushing them, despite it being within his right to do so. The pretty commander – what was his name, Izo? – and the one with the pineapple hair had let them _bathe_ , gave them clothes that weren't torn or too big, or nibbled on by rats or moths or stripped off the bodies of former slaves. Their injuries, new and old, were treated and bandaged with care and tenderness Sabo hasn't felt since Makino…and now, they've even redecorated a whole _room_ for them, all within a matter of hours.

It's…almost overwhelming. No one's ever showed such compassion to them, not for a long, long time. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared about.

Sabo had fallen to his knees before the captain – Whitebeard, _the_ Whitebeard, Emperor of the damn Sea – having surrendered to whatever the pirates deemed a suitable punishment. He'd bowed his head, begging for the lives of his brothers, expecting to die. It's what they deserved, as trespassers, as former slaves…property of royalty. But instead…

Whitebeard had knelt before _them._ Still towering over their forms like a giant, but he'd lowered himself to _their_ level. He'd asked for their names, their _real names_ , called them 'guests' and _smiled_ without a trace of veiled malevolence. And in the face of such a smile, earnest and inviting…almo _st paternal…_

(Back in Goa, Dadan was the closest thing to a mother Sabo ever had, regardless of her rough edges, foul mouth and overall brash nature; the woman cared more than she let on, more than anyone else ever had or would for three mischievous little brats, in her own ways.

With Whitebeard…Sabo doesn't know _what_ to think. But a part of him kind of likes it.)

Sitting here now in a lovely yet modest room just for them, no bars or chains in sight, Sabo purses his lips and wonders. Maybe…these pirates aren't quite so bad as they'd feared, if even the captain – freaking _Whitebeard_ – had stayed his hand after what they've done, the trouble they've caused…

He looks up from his knees to seek out Ace. It's not hard; he's been pacing the floor back and forth ever since the nurse dropped them off here after their check-up with Whiskey. His older brother is tense and agitated, murmuring under his breath as he glares at the floor. Sabo watches him a minute longer, weighing his words. "Hey, Ace?" he prompts. He gets a grunt in response, and Sabo rolls his eyes; at least he's listening. "Call me crazy, but…I think these Whitebeard guys might be genuine."

Ace stops pacing, his back facing Sabo, rigid. Sabo waits. Luffy bounces on.

Slowly, Ace turns his head and pins Sabo with a half-glare, his scowl deep and sharp. "Don't be stupid, Sabo," he says.

Sabo blinks, startled, and then he bristles. "What?" he barks. Luffy spins mid-bounce to look at them, his smile fading little by little until it vanishes altogether when he catches their frowns. He stops bouncing to sit cross-legged on the bed, opting to watch what will undoubtedly be an argument play out. (Knowing Ace, it very well might be.)

"What's so stupid about this?" Sabo goes on, shifting to sit on his knees. "I mean…look at what they've done for us already; the baths, the clothes, this room…it's more than anyone's _ever_ done for us, except for maybe Makino. Anyone else would've killed us on sight or forced us back into slavery, feeling entitled because we…we _belonged_ to someone before," he adds with a grimace, barely repressing a shiver at the wretched word, what those bastards had driven into their skulls day and night. He sighs. "I…I know it's early yet, but…maybe there's a chance they could be –"

"Or maybe _not_ ," Ace interjects harshly, and Sabo clamps his mouth shut at his brothers' low tone. Ace shakes his head, bearing his teeth in a snarl as he glares at the floor again. "Haven't you noticed by now? How we've not once refused to do whatever they asked us to do? These pirates might play nice now, sure, but the minute we say 'no', they'll get pissed off."

He glances up, meeting Sabo's eyes, narrowed and penetrating. "Pirates aren't saints, 'Bo. And they like getting their way no matter what they have to do."

(Sabo remembers Bluejam, remembers Porchemy's crazed, desperate rage for his treasure, so much that he'd tortured Luffy, a seven-year-old strung up like a marionette, _for ho_ urs with spiked gloves tearing into his rubbery flesh. He remembers, and this time he can't hold back a shiver.)

He shakes the memories away. "Well…yeah, maybe," Sabo argues, albeit weakly, and he hates himself a little more for it, "but that was _Bluejam,_ a washed-up drunkard who'd never been past the coastline of Dawn –"

"Yeah, and these guys are _New World_ pirates!" Ace snaps with no shortage of hatred. "We thought Bluejam was bad when we were three brats running around in a jungle – how much _worse_ do you think the rival crew of _Gol D. freakin' Roger_ are gonna be?"

 _'Ah. Figures he'd remember that,'_ Sabo inwardly gripes, raking a hand through his hair. "Ace, please, _think_ about it for a minute! Why would they go through all this trouble just to trick us –?"

"Why else? To lower our guard, Sabo!" Ace shouts. Luffy flinches, and Sabo fights the urge to do the same. "They wanna make us feel like we're welcome here, put on a show and plaster a few smiles, make us think we're safe, that we're free here. Well, we're _not_. They cart us around the ship and – and _stare_ at us like we're freaks, have their commanders follow us wherever we go in case we run away or attack somebody like we attacked the old man – they haven't even taken off these stupid sea stone braces yet! We might not be slaves, but we're still as good as prisoners."

Ace's fists shake at his sides, silver eyes like burning coals as he grits his teeth. "They've spared our lives for now 'cos we might be useful, but we step out of line, try their patience just enough, and it'll be the gallows with us. Back in rags, back in _chains_ and nowhere to go but overboard!"

Silence.

Despite himself, Sabo settles down on the bed with a defeated huff, averting his gaze and hunching his shoulders.

Ace's enraged outburst aside, his argument…well, it's not quite as unfounded as Sabo hoped it would be.

Deception is a powerful thing and comes in many forms. It's happened before, after all; the guards would toy with them, pretend to pay no heed to an unlocked door or a loose chain only to turn around and bash them over the head, laughing, when they attempted to take advantage of their forgetfulness. The same would always, _always_ happen with food; the princess would hang a fruit or a steaming dish over their heads or under their noses, teasing them, giggling when their stomachs growled or they drooled a little, starving as they were. The moment they went for the food, of course, they were punished.

(Sabo can count a few times _before_ they were sold, too. His parents were masters at such trickery.)

And Ace is right; they've been wholly compliant thus far, no complaints or protests from any of them for anything. Not even when the nurse had asked Ace to take off his shirt and show her his back…and take _pictures._

They've been taking full advantage of their weakened (frightened, _submissive)_ state. And pirates, in the end, are still pirates. Better than nobles in some respects, but worse in others. And unlike nobility, pirates aren't quite as patient. It's only a matter of time before the façade gets too tiring to keep up.

"…right," Sabo mutters eventually, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're right. 'S long as we're on this ship, we're not…we're not truly safe. We're not free. Not yet." On the middle bed, Luffy looks down and plays with his fingers despondently.

A moment passes, and then a long sigh drags out of Ace as he sits on the edge of Sabo's bed. He leans forward, seeking Sabo's eyes. When the blond finally looks up, the harsh lines of Ace's frown are gone, an unsure smile taking its place as the elder opens his arms, fingers twitching. Rolling his eyes, Sabo closes the distance and wraps his arms around Ace's shoulders just as his arms come to pull him closer. Luffy immediately scrambles off his bed and joins in, squeezing his way between the older two, fitting seamlessly.

"…I didn't forget," Sabo whispers against Ace's shoulder, and his fingers curl into the fabric of his brothers' new shirt. "Doubt I ever will if I tried. I just…I don't know. I _hoped_ that this…whatever this is might be _different,_ just this once, y'know?"

Ace nods, his chin dropping on Luffy's head. "Yeah," he says softly. He lifts one arm and brushes his fingers through Sabo's hair. "I get it, 'Bo. I do. And I'm sorry for snappin' at you like that. It's just…we can't afford to lower our guards. Not ever again. Anything can happen…"

 _He still blames himself for what happened that day. Of course he does. He blames himself for_ everything _._

Sabo sighs, weary to the marrow of his bones as he draws back from Ace, just a little. Luffy shuffles to sit between them with his legs crossed, brown eyes wide and curious as he switches his gaze from Sabo to Ace expectantly. "So, what do we do now?" Sabo asks, fiddling with the hem of his open shirt absently. The feel of fresh clothes on his skin is a foreign thing after so long, something he hopes he'll get used to in due time. "I mean, if everything you've said just now is true, they're probably gonna put us to work soon as we're rested enough. Do we just," he shrugs, "do as we're told? Same as…before?"

Ace's eye twitches at that. "No _,_ of course not. We're gonna escape."

"Well, yeah, I figured," Sabo rolls his eyes again, something Ace doesn't seem to appreciate as he gives him a light shove. Sabo shoves back. "But _how_ do we escape? This is a ship on open ocean, not a castle with underground tunnels and open streets. And it's not like they'll just _give_ us weapons, or take off the sea stone and _let_ you burn the ship down –"

"I won't let that happen either," Ace snaps suddenly. Sabo pauses, looks at him, and the other boys' eyes are haunted, grave as they stare at his lap, at his fingers as they curl into fists, nails biting into his palms.

Sabo's heart sinks with dread. He knows this look. He hates it, more than the blistering anger he throws at anyone who looks their way or so much as mentions Roger – it's _guilt,_ unparalleled, and despite Sabo's attempts, unbeatable. "Ace –"

"Not again. _Never_ again," Ace whispers, shaking his head hard, black hair flying. His shoulders tremble. "Not after – after last time. I won't – I _can't_ give them that chance –"

He stops, breath hitching, when Luffy calmly reaches out and takes his white-knuckled hands in his. Ace raises his eyes to meet the wide, unreadable baby browns as Luffy slowly uncurls Ace's fists, swiping away the specks of blood off his cold palms with a few flicks of his thumb. Laying Ace's hands flat on his lap, Luffy draws back and looks up at him. 'Don't do that,' he signs, his movements slower than normal, calm and measured. 'It's okay'.

Ace stares at Luffy a moment longer. Sabo watches them both, and feels a swell of pride for his baby brother. Young though he is, and as goofy as he often acts, Luffy never fails to surprise his older brothers with such profound displays of empathy, boundless love and care. It's a wonder, really, how they ever could've crossed paths with such a kid. But he's thankful, every day, that this awful bitch of a world has given them this much. Without Luffy…well, god only knows how they ever would've survived the five years trapped in that hell.

(It kills him, though, that Luffy is still suffering in his own ways, still chained to _that place_ like the rest of them. And yet he smiles anyway, laughs and giggles and plays with bubbles and jumps on beds, because there's still some light, some _hope,_ in his heart.

He's not like Sabo or Ace. Sabo prefers it that way.)

Eventually, Ace shuts his eyes with another heavy sigh and leans back. When he opens them again, the tautness in his frame and haunting sheen in his eyes dissolve. "…sorry," he croaks, raking a hand through his hair. He offers Luffy a weak smile, which the boy returns sunnily, and then faces Sabo. His eyes linger on the scars. "Sorry," he says again.

"Don't apologize. It's okay," Sabo soothes, resisting the urge to reach up and touch the old scars, still so evident and ugly, aching on a bad day. But he won't allow his brother to hate yet another part of himself, the one thing (though an unwanted 'gift' at first) that brought him a sense of _joy_ despite the hopelessness of their situation, a semblance of power and _control_ and _freedom,_ if only for so long.

So he reaches for Ace's hand instead, clasping it tight and running his thumb over the pale skin of his knuckles. He smiles. "It's okay. We'll figure something else out," he adds, an attempt to quickly change the subject. "I think heard one of the commanders mention something about an island a week away from now." He squeezes Ace's hand once more before letting go and leaning back. "That's our chance, maybe our only one. What to do until then, though…"

Swallowing the last of his guilt (though it's always there, Sabo knows, lingering beneath the surface waiting to rear its ugly head) Ace hums under his breath, a contemplative frown on his face. He sighs again about a minute, shaking his head. "As much as I hate the idea," he says, "it's best we lay low for now, do whatever they ask. Let 'em believe they've got us 'tamed'. Maybe during the nights, we can gather supplies and cash, and the second we dock, we'll make a run for it."

Sabo digests this. Not quite a solid plan, or a favorable one really, but much like their options back at the docks on _that_ island, beggars can't be choosers. He looks down at Luffy. "What do you think, Lu?" he asks. The pre-teen whips his head up to meet his eyes (and by god his hair is so _fluffy_ now, he can't help but run his fingers through the feathery mess of ebony). "You on board with this plan?"

The blond expects their youngest to agree immediately. But to his surprise, and no doubt Ace's, Luffy gives pause. His expression is blank as he stares at his feet folded on the bed, but his endless russet eyes are deep and thoughtful. Removing his hand from the boy's hair, Sabo shares a quick, perplexed look with Ace over his head before the kid snaps to attention once more.

'I don't know,' he signs, and now Sabo can see he looks torn, confused. 'They really don't seem like bad people. They gave us a bath, funny clothes and an awesome new room.' He spreads his arms out wide to gesture the colorful space with a sunny grin to match the sheets of his bed. 'And I like the big captain. He's strong and dangerous, but safe. He's a good person.'

Ace splutters, and Sabo stares. "…seriously?" he asks slowly, and feels his heart leap a little in his chest. It's been a while since Luffy has said anything like this about anyone. Not since Mei, at least, and that was…well, that was a while ago. "You think…Whitebeard's a good person? And the crew, too?"

Luffy nods, beaming. It's almost infectious.

"And what makes you think _that_ , oh wise little brother?" Ace drawls, decidedly unimpressed. Sabo nudges him, shaking his head. Ace nudges back, sticking his tongue out.

Luffy giggles at the exchange and raises his arms. 'I can tell. Don't know how, but I can tell.' Then he shrugs, a carefree thing. Ace mutters under his breath and looks away, resting his arms in a stubborn cross over his chest. Sabo ignores the freckled grump and ruffles Luffy's hair instead.

"If you say so, kiddo," he says, a light chuckle falling from his lips even as the smile starts to dwindle. "Still…better safe than sorry this time." Again, Luffy just shrugs in acquiescence, leaning into Sabo's touch like a kitten against its mother until he all but tucks himself against Sabo's chest, head nestling under the blond's chin. Sabo dutifully obliges and draws the smaller boy into the circle of his arms, taking comfort from the young, beating heart against his own as he drops a kiss into Luffy's hair.

"Who's the sap now?" Ace teases.

Sabo pouts, a mild pink tint to his cheeks. "Shut the hell up." Luffy giggles against him, and that somehow makes everything worth it.

So, they have a plan. Or, the skeleton of a plan. Survive seven days aboard a ship full of pirates with unclear intentions (and, worryingly, an unknown history between the incredibly dangerous captain and the freckled teen sitting across from him) and escape when the opportunity presents itself.

Freedom _will_ be theirs, Emperor or no, pirates or no. They've escaped one hell, they can escape another, regardless of how appealing this one may seem to the naked eye.

Sabo feels a smile and buries it into Luffy's hair. They can do this.

And then there's a knock on the door.

Sabo stiffens.

 _Crap._

* * *

 **Note: Ace still loves his fire. But he's hesitant to use it in massive bursts.**

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N~ AAAAAGGH. This chapter. It hurt to keep writing, I had to re-do it so many times DX XD Well, here it is regardless, and a BIG THANK YOU forall of your reviews; they're supportive, encouraging, and inspiring!**

 **Also, Wordlet...STOP READING MY MIND! IT'S SCARY XD As for my plans, I shall keep them guarded at all costs _muahahaha._**

 **Anyways, here's the next chapter. It's kinda slowish, but I promise the next one will have more going on. Including, I dunno, an interaction a lot of you might've been waiting for? Who knows?**

 **I OWN NOTHING.  
**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

There's a knock at the door.

It's a light tap, barely even that, and the boys tense up completely, whipping their heads around to stare at the door. Ace's stomach plummets with dread. They've already come for them, and it's not even been a day.

These pirates really _are_ impatient.

Ace clenches his jaw as he scrambles off the bed, his brothers promptly following suit. The moment his booted feet touch the floorboards – something he's still growing accustomed to, he hasn't worn shoes in years – he shifts his stance to stand in front of them both, arms spread slightly; Sabo can bitch about it all he pleases, claim he doesn't need coddling or protecting, and really, he doesn't. But he and Luffy are _his_ priority, _his_ younger brothers to protect.

And anyone, New World pirate or lowlife noble, will only get to them over his cold, dead –

"Hello? You kids okay in there?" calls a familiar, cheerful voice that gives Ace pause. "It's Thatch. we met earlier in Navigation? Ace almost bit my nose off? Ah, probably shouldn't've mentioned that – uh, is it alright if I come in?"

Ace blinks once, thrown for a minute. He trades a look with Sabo and Luffy over his shoulder, and they're as befuddled as he is, shaking heads and blinking dumbly.

(Is…is this pirate asking for permission to enter a room on his _own_ ship? Either they're _really_ putting effort into this pleasant facade, or they've had lessons in decorum from Makino.)

Eventually, Sabo clears his throat and answers before the men can grow impatient – yes, there are more than just Thatch behind that door. Ace can feel them, almost _see_ them through the wooden barrier. Hoping to get them to drop their guard, no doubt. _Bastards._ "…um…yes, sir?" Sabo says hesitantly, making a face.

(Must be odd, being the one to _give_ permission for a change, to pirates no less.)

The door creaks open a moment later, and the scar-faced, pompadoured man from earlier pokes his head through the opening, offering the brothers a truly harmless grin. Ace doesn't buy it, and his frown is a cavernous thing as he glares at the other man.

Luffy goes on his tip-toes to peek at the man over Ace's shoulder, but Sabo quickly tugs him back down and forces him into a short bow with a hand on the back of his head. "Good afternoon, sir," the blond says, his eyes fixed on the floor until they flick up at Ace, standing straight and tall. He nudges Ace in the side with his elbow. Ace swallows a guttural growl, and with great reluctance he ducks his head in the slightest bow, but straightens immediately after.

They've agreed to lay low, yes, but never will Ace fully submit to _anyone_. Not again.

(Once they get off this ship, maybe Sabo will relearn to do the same in time.)

Whether he acknowledges any of this – Sabo's easy abidance, Luffy's curiosity or Ace's resistance – Thatch does a good job of hiding it. "Hey there! Glad to see you've started to settle in. And Izo wasn't kidding, this room really _is_ nice," he says as he steps into the room proper, regarding the new decor in mild fascination. He's carrying a large silver tray between his hands, balancing three covered plates with such ease and grace that it almost pisses Ace off more than his smile does.

(What's worse, whatever is underneath the mental covering smells _amazing.)_

The man pauses in the middle of the room suddenly, looks behind him at the gaping maw of the doorway. The smile finally drops into what Ace can only assume is an irritated frown. "Come _in_ , you idiots," he hisses, exasperated.

Sure enough, the remaining two presences lingering beyond the threshold finally reveal themselves at Thatch's beckoning. It's the blond pineapple-headed guy – _again –_ and another man Ace hasn't seen yet; about average-height, dirty blond dreadlocks trailing the length of his back, tied back with a yellow bandanna bearing the same mark as their jolly roger, and a black, pointy mustache.

(He reminds Ace of a typical swashbuckler from children's storybooks, actually; his outfit certainly doesn't do him any favors.)

Despite his outward appearance, his aura is strong, just like the other commanders and Whitebeard. But unlike them, he doesn't inspire much fear. The only thing even remotely intimidating about him is the red toolbox he's carrying in his left hand.

Ace eyes the object warily. He's come to learn that nothing good ever comes out of a box.

The two men enter the room at an unhurried pace, leaving the door wide open behind them – almost as if they _want_ the boys to bolt past them. But Ace stays where he is, keeping Sabo and Luffy behind him. Inviting though it is, tempting even, it could be a trap. They're _Whitebeard's,_ he reminds himself. No matter their appearance, they're one of the most powerful crews in the world for a reason. And… _his_ greatest rival.

 _Can't take any chances. Can't let our guards down, not even a little._

Pineapple leans against the wall by the oil lamp, arms folded across his chest, and the toolbox guy stands by the desk, keeping their distance from them and the door. Thatch rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath – Ace just catches 'mama bird' among the littered curses – as he sets the tray down on Luffy's bed. Feeling their eyes on him, distrustful and curious alike, he lifts his head and flashes another grin.

"I heard you boys might be hungry, since you haven't really eaten since last night," he says, and lifts the metal covering off the plates with a flourish. " _Ta-da~!"_ he chimes. "A late breakfast – or brunch, rather!"

Steam wafts from the dishes along with its delightful aroma, and Ace forgets himself for a moment at the sight of…of…

 _Oh good god._

Ace has no qualms admitting the food he'd pilfered during the party was incredible (but really, anything that isn't what they'd been forced to eat _back there_ is a godsend in itself), but even the simple layout of eggs, crispy bacon, sausages and fruits, accompanied by three glasses of ice-cold water, has the freckled teen fighting the urge to drool like a dog. Luffy has no such reservations and drops his jaw, staring. Sabo looks a little weak in the knees, fingers clenching in the back of Luffy's shirt as he swallows thickly.

 _Food. So much food,_ actual _**food**_ _–_

And then Ace blinks, looks up at the pirates. He does a quick headcount, and then inwardly groans, masking his newfound despair with another deep frown.

 _They're gonna make us watch them eat this._

(It wouldn't be the first time. Ace briefly wonders why he's even surprised by this. It was one of the princesses' favorite pastimes, after all.)

He glances back at his brothers, and sees the instant in which they realize the same thing. Watching Luffy's face fall and the ache manifest in Sabo's discolored eyes as they take a painfully reluctant step backwards is worse than even this sort of torture.

A moment passes. Thatch tilts his head, and quickly trades an odd look with the other two commanders (at least Ace _thinks_ the toolbox guy is a commander). They shrug back, nonplussed.

Thatch turns back to the younger trio, a single brow arched. "Aren't you gonna eat?" he asks.

Ace feels his neck creak in protest when he snaps his head up to stare at the taller pirate, wide-eyed. His brothers are quick to follow suit.

 _What?_

Thatch snickers, waving a hand down at the tray sitting innocently on Luffy's bed. "This food is for _you_ guys," he says, and then crosses his arms over his broad chest. "What, you think we were gonna make you sit here and watch _us_ eat this?"

" _Yes_ ," Ace growls before he can help himself. Sabo slams a hand over Ace's lips, paling and horrified, and Luffy flinches violently, eyes darting from Ace to Thatch fearfully. The smile slips right off Thatch's face, and it's almost satisfying.

Shrugging Sabo off him, Ace levels the commander with a glare, pouring defiance. He expects anger, outrage at having been talked back to, and he'll gladly take it.

(Because then, at least he'll _know_ , show Sabo and Luffy once and for all, who and what these pirates _really_ are. True colors aren't always so bright.)

But he receives none of that. Instead, the man looks like he's been gut-punched, eyes impossibly wide and... _sad?_

The guy with the toolbox snarls a curse and looks away, scrubbing his face wearily with his free hand. The other blond...his countenance doesn't change much, but his eyes are blazing. It's a different kind of blaze than the one Ace feels pulsing beneath his skin, waiting to flicker to life at his call (when it can). It's furious, yes, but...but not at Ace.

He steps forward. Ace lets himself snarl, low and beast-like, backing up until Sabo and Luffy are pressed against the wall. Sabo hisses something that sounds like a vehement protest in his ear. Again, Ace ignores him, eyes on the tattooed blond striding towards them.

 _Here it comes._

When he's about an arms' length away, he stops. His gaze is piercing, knowing yet searching, and these ancient eyes meet Ace's, burning cobalt against smouldering silver. The teen refuses to yield, _refuses_ to submit to whatever power this bastard thinks he has over him and his brothers, punishment be damned. He won't do it, he _won't –_

Then the man smirks – it's not unkind, nor condescending or smug. It's... _relieved,_ almost? Glad?

"Ace, right?" he asks, and it takes everything in the boy to not rear back – hearing his name (not brat, not slave, not _it_ or _slut_ or _property)_ fall from foreign lips so casually, while not unwelcome, is...jarring.

"In case you've forgotten, my name's Marco, yoi," the pirate continues. "I'm the First Division commander of the Whitebeard pirates, and first mate to Whitebeard himself." He jabs a thumb behind him at toolbox guy. "He's Rakuyo, the Seventh Division commander, and you've already met Thatch. And we're all here to help you."

 _'Oh, really?'_ A nasty little voice in Ace's head sneers.

Marco put his hands on his hips, an assured yet mellow stance, leaving every possible opening for Ace to attack. Why the commander thinks Ace won't take advantage of this – or even _hoping_ that he might – is a enigma.

"You're not prisoners here," Marco says, and though his voice is firm it's not at all intimidating. Instead, there's only warmth, the sort you'd find comfort in from a fireplace on a winters' night. "You're not servants, slaves, cabin boys, none of that, yoi. Pops said you're our guests, and he _meant_ that; you're _free,_ to do whatever the hell you want..." He pauses, considering. "...within reason," he amends, ignoring the snickering pair behind him. "You can eat, sleep, go wherever you wanna go on or off this ship. We won't stop you."

Then Marco smiles, a slight thing, but wholly sincere. "And we don't expect you to trust us, even a little bit. We understand, yoi."

Ace stares, arms falling to his sides reluctantly.

 _Well...damn._

He...he doesn't want to admit it, believe it, but...he actually sounds... _genuine_. Like Sabo said. And when he tears his eyes from Marco and casts them about the room at the other two commanders, he finds they're no different. He feels nor sees any sort of hidden malevolence or deceit in their smiles.

 _'But that's part of the act, dumbass,'_ that snide little voice leers again. ' _That's what they_ want _you to think. They're pirates, some of the best liars next to those bastard nobles who made you this way. You can't trust them, you can't trust_ _ **anybody –'**_

Movement behind him startles Ace from his thoughts and silences the toxic voice. He cranes his neck to see Luffy squirming in Sabo's hold despite the blond's quiet protests. Luffy whines a little and pushes against Sabo like a kitten, until he's freed himself from his older brother and shuffles past his eldest, towards Marco.

Ace moves to stop him...and then he sees Luffy's face. It's is a blank canvas of emotion; wide, brown eyes fixated on the older pirate as he comes to a stop a stop mere inches from the man and openly stares at him, right in the eye, with a searing intensity rivaling that of a serpent.

Silence befalls the room, anticipation (and a new aura, thrumming below the surface of the body of a tiny, starved twelve-year-old boy) hanging thick and heavy in the air.

The urge to pull Luffy back is strong, but Ace steels himself and waits, as does Sabo, (even if the look on his face screams anxiety, fingers twitching as his eyes flick between their baby brother and the pirate standing over him).

Odd though it is, indescribable even for Luffy himself, his perception that rivals even Ace's unusual sixth-sense has saved them in the past. They'll let him do this.

(And if Marco had wanted to strike Luffy, he'd have done it already. And if he does, there's nothing stopping Ace from tearing him limb from limb, sea stone be damned, Whitebeard's wrath be _thrice_ damned.)

Marco looks befuddled at first, but quickly schools his expression and keeps still, not once averting his gaze from Luffy's when most would have become discomfited, as if he truly understands what's happening right now, the significance of this. The boy then transfers his gaze to Thatch and Rakuyo. They blink, startled by the sudden scrutiny, but they wisely keep their silence. Ace wonders if anyone's even breathing at this rate.

Eventually, Luffy's scarred face splits into a cheerful smile as he turns on his sandalled heel, facing his brothers. 'I like them,' he signs, his gestures lively, almost excited. God only knows why. 'They're good. Marco and Thatch –' he clumsily spells out their names on his fingertips and across his palms '– are nice. Don't know about the other guy yet.'

 _Nice, huh?_ Ace muses over his mounting surprise, cutting the blond commander a short glance. _Not exactly the word I'd use._

(While Thatch is all but an open book to Ace, Marco is different; the man's aura is a powerful one undoubtedly, his very presence demanding respect, pouring authority. And he'd be a fool not to feel the intelligence, the killing intent concealed beneath those half-lidded eyes. Rakuyo remains to be seen.

But...if _Luffy_ says they're okay...what the hell does it all _mean,_ then?)

Sabo still looks somewhat uncertain, but his shoulders loosen with something akin to relief however mild. He looks at Ace from the corner of his eye, and the freckled youth huffs, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning his head away. He can _feel_ the frown Sabo pins the back of his head with like a hot iron, but he doesn't dare give the blond the satisfaction of a reaction.

Luffy, grinning at their exchange because of _course_ he does, turns back to the pirates and graces them with a small but cheerful giggle.

The results...well, Thatch seems to grin hard enough in return that his face threatens to split as he waves at the boy. Rakuyo has to look away, a new pinkish tinge to his cheeks as he scratches the back of his head in a fit of bashfulness unexpected of any veteran pirate. Marco simply chuckles, abating what Ace thinks might've been a move to ruffle Luffy's hair.

Ace blinks. Hard. These...these _are_ the Whitebeard pirates, right? Most fearsome pirates on the seas right now? The way they're acting, it's as off-putting as the alternative, what Ace has been counting on, certain of, all this time.

(Their acting must be incredible in that case. It's almost terrifying. But Luffy...

Dammit to hell.)

"Alright," Marco says, stepping aside and gesturing the food awaiting them on Luffy's bed. "Go ahead, yoi. Eat up before the food gets too cold."

It's not a command. It's a suggestion, an _offering._ And the face of it, Luffy is the first to take it with gleeful willingness. He signs a quick 'thank you' to Marco before skipping over to the bed, clambering onto the soft surface and plucking a plate for himself, digging right in like the stomach on legs he is. Casting the pirates a final glance, Sabo bows once and then scurries over, scolding the younger boy to slow down before he chokes as he picks up his own plate. Ace follows shortly after, taking a quick whiff of the food – _can't be too careful,_ he continues to tell himself – before settling down to eat.

Despite his former reservations, the food is freaking _delicious_. It's all he can do to keep himself from following Luffy's lead and plough through the meal like an animal; a glance at Sabo tells him his twin is suffering just the same, eyes flown wide and incredulous as he shovels the eggs into his mouth.

Ace almost wants to laugh, but he'll choke, so he doesn't.

All too soon the last morsel is gone, leaving three depressingly empty plates behind. Behind them, Thatch whistles. "Whoa, you sure went through that quick," he chuckles, surprised and oddly pleased, more so when Luffy licks his grinning chops. "I'll bet you're probably still hungry –"

" _Mn!"_ Luffy nods enthusiastically, but catches himself and hunches his shoulders immediately after, fingers twiddling on his lap as he ducks his head. Sabo's arm automatically comes around his slim shoulders, and Ace shuffles closer, eyeing the pirate in a warning that can't be any clearer.

Of course, because everyone seems to like proving him wrong today (...not that it's a _bad_ thing, just slightly annoying) Thatch just laughs. "Thought so. Don't you worry little guy, I'll be more than happy to give you seconds later, though I'd be careful; your stomachs can't quite handle too much food at once just yet. You'll have to start out small and work your way up slowly; nurse's orders. But for now," he gestures Ace and Luffy's ankles, "I think it's about time we do something about those godawful cuffs."

Ace feels his heart leap to his throat, a very bad thing after a meal, but he pays the sickness no mind, not with what he's just heard.

He...he can't mean –

No, can't be. They wouldn't dare. They don't even know what powers they have, why take that risk –?

"Rakuyo, yoi," Marco turns to the other blond, cocking his head in the boys' direction. The man nods back and slowly comes to sit on the bed opposite Luffy's. His moustache twitches above his smile.

"Hey there, brats." His voice, though gruff as any buccaneer, is as inviting as Marco's and Thatch's. It's...odd. "Mind if I take a closer look at those cuffs? I won't touch you if you don't want me to, but, ah...shuffle a little closer, will ya?"

Ace regards the pirate, looking him up and down. He then looks at the sealed toolbox (with more trepidation than what should be warranted), and trades another look with his brothers, namely his youngest, in wordless query. Biting his lip, Luffy is the first to shuffle forward on the bed, ducking under Sabo's protective arm and showing Rakuyo the cuff encircling his right ankle. Soon enough, though his glare doesn't ebb by much, Ace follows suit.

Rakuyo's smile broadens. "Atta boys," he says, turning to open his toolbox and sift through it's clattering contents. Luffy tenses at Ace's side, and Ace reaches for his hand, entwining their fingers. The commander notices, and chuckles lightly. "Mighty brave of ya," he says. "I'm sure all of this ain't easy to do, 'specially since you hardly know me, or any of us for that matter. None of us take it personally either, just so you know. Just sit back and relax, I'll be done before you can say Bob's your freakin' uncle."

Ace's brows furrow – who the hell's Bob? – but shakes his head quickly as the pirate pulls out... _something._ It's metal and shiny, and he doesn't like it one bit. Neither does Luffy, if the slim fingers crushing his hand are any indication. "What're you gonna do?" he asks snidely. "Tighten them?"

Rakuyo barks a laugh, slowly bringing the device to hover over Ace's ankle. "Cynical brat, ain't ya?" he says with a shake of his head, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Nah kid. I'm gonna take 'em off."

Ace freezes, time grinding to a halt in turn.

For a moment, he can't hear a thing; even his heartbeat is a dulled thing in his ears. He blinks, once, twice, feeling and registering nothing at all except those words on repeat, over and over like a mantra, ' _I'm gonna take 'em off', he's gonna take them –_

 _ **Clank!**_

Until he's startled back into reality by the sound of a heavy metal object striking the floor, and a weight off his ankle. Time resumes, and Ace looks down at his foot –

His breath catches in his chest, already painfully tight. It's off. The – the sea stone cuff is off.

It's – he can see it on the floor, useless and harmless. There's faint scarring where it rubbed against his ankle, the flesh a lighter shade than the rest of him, but it's _off –_

Another _clank,_ and Ace jerks his head off to see Rakuyo just finishing off the lock on Luffy's cuff, which meets a similar fate and drops to the floorboards.

The pirate leans back with a satisfied sigh, nodding to himself. "There ya go," he says, watching with pleased eyes as Luffy grabs his ankle and stares at where the cuff used to reside, baby browns wider than saucers. "How'd ya feel? Pounds lighter I'll bet!"

 _Is...is this real?_

Ace knows he's shaking a little, but he can't stop, not even when Luffy slowly lifts his eyes to meet his own. He can already see tears welling up within them, and when he turns to Sabo, he finds he's not much better; his trembling hands cover his mouth, incompatible eyes shining with disbelief and the threat of tears.

It's...it's really off. They'd actually taken the sea stone off. It's _off._

And now he realizes, belatedly, why he's shaking – he's _warming up._ The blood pulsing through him from head to toe is _burning_ in a way that hasn't hurt in years, the familiar hum of flames beneath the skin an aching comfort, and for the first time he's not on a stage, plastered in beauty and riches unwanted, nor is he in chains. He's...he's...

He pauses, eyes shifting to the commanders. He presses his lips together.

 _Test them out, first. See what they do._

Slowly, he raises one hand, palm upturned. Another glance at the gathered pirates – Marco doesn't move, nor do Thatch or Rakuyo, though the latter pair lean in just a little, curiosity agleam in their dark eyes. Ace licks his dry lips, blood pumping with a furious vengeance he's not felt since their escape.

He closes his eyes. Takes a breath.

 _Do it._

And he lights his palm on fire.

He hears gasps – a choked one from Sabo, awe and astonishment from Thatch and Rakuyo. Marco is eerily silent, but his aura spikes with something Ace can't yet name, though 'intrigue' comes to mind. He cracks one eye open, followed by the other.

A small flame, no bigger than a mere candlelight, sways in the center of his outstretched palm. Slight in nature, barely enough to set the desk alight, and yet the _power_ Ace feels, the semblance of _control_ and _beauty_ he holds in his hand...

 _My fire. It's back. I have my fire. And the pirates..._

He blinks hard, looking up at the commanders. Thatch is grinning hard, leaning closer to get a good look. "A Fire Logia, eh?" he muses, and both he and the Seventh commander cut a glance that's oddly 'knowing', something Ace clearly isn't privy to, and they snicker like school children. "Think we've found your new best friend, eh Marco?"

The First commander has been staring at the flickering flame in Ace's palm, enthralled almost, but he blinks into reality at their playful jeering and frowns, just shy of a pout. "Shut up, yoi," he mutters, much to their added amusement.

Ace pays them no mind, turning back to Sabo and Luffy. Both have tears running down their faces, Sabo doing his best to wipe them away whilst Luffy lets them fall freely as he stares at his ankle – his _bare_ ankle.

Ace can't help the little laugh, choked as it is, as he looks down at the baby flame in his hand. He's...he's _happy._ He can't remember when he'd last been so –

Something pricks behind Ace's eyes, foreign yet familiar, and he panics. The flame vanishes, seeping into his skin once more.

 _No._

His teeth automatically start to sink into his bottom lip, harder and harder.

 _No, don't cry. Don't cry, don't cry, that's what they want, they'll hurt Lu and Sabo, I can't cry –_

And then Luffy _leaps_ off the bed with an elated _**shriek**_ that scares the hell out of everyone in the room. Ace jumps hard enough that he bites his lip by _accident,_ blood dribbling down his chin. Well, it gives him an excuse when Sabo eventually asks.

Luffy is bouncing, thriving with unbound happiness and vigor that Ace hasn't seen in so long, laughing wildly without restraint. He looks at his hands – there's color returning to his once pale skin, no longer sickly or ghostly but rich with his natural tan and a touch of pink in his flushed, blotchy cheeks – turning his palms over and over. He raises one hand and pinches the skin of the other between his thumb and forefinger, slowly pulling it further and further from the bone, and then letting it snap back with a squeak of absolute delight.

He can stretch again. After five years, he's _rubber_ again.

Then he looks up at the ceiling, and with a grin befitting his 'Monkey' name, he stretches _–_ a startled sound between a laugh and a sob bursts from Sabo at the sight – up to catch the paper lantern hanging overhead and lets his feet leave the ground, swinging back and forth, giggling madly.

(It's the happiest Ace has seen Luffy in years. His laughter, full of youth and energy and so unapologetically _loud,_ shakes the very foundations of the room and rings in Ace's ears, and it's _beautiful._

He might cry. Might, wants to, but won't.)

The commanders, however, damn near jump out of their skins, gawping at the elongated rubber limbs. "Holy _balls!"_ Thatch squawks, stumbling backwards. "He can – he can _stretch?!_ What the hell kind of power is that?!"

"Really, man?!" Rakuyo smacks his comrade upside the head. "We've got a flamin' turkey, a girls' best friend* and a man who can literally tilt the bloody _sea,_ and _this_ surprises you?!"

Marco laughs softly, recovering from the shock as quickly as it came as he watches Luffy swing back and forth. "I think it suits him, yoi," he says. One can't miss the touch of fondness in his tone, odd though it is; he hardly knows them, after all. "He really is a little monkey."

Ace almost smirks. ' _You have no idea.'_

Eventually, at Sabo's urging (through a wide grin and stifled tears), Luffy sets himself down, arms snapping back to their natural length. He's literally bouncing on his toes, eyes shining as they fall on Rakuyo. The older man finds his gaze and grins back. "I take it you feel better?" he chuckles, hands on his hips. "Good. Still, I'd watch it for now if I were you, save your energy. Might tucker yourself right out before – _oof!"_

He's cut off when Luffy, overcome with emotion, barrels into him with a hug, lanky arms encircling his waist tightly.

The grin drops from Sabo's face faster than it came, horror rearing it's ugly head. Ace's heart plummets when the pirates _freeze,_ all of them staring at the boy burrowing against Rakuyo's chest; said commanders' arms are held up and away from Luffy, ungainly, as he blinks down at the top of Luffy's head.

Silence falls. It's all Ace can do to remain where he is on the bed, to not burst into flames here and now and tear his baby brother away from the imminent danger he's placed himself in.

He's _hugging a pirate_. Their former 'masters' would sooner have them executed or beaten with irons if their slaves so much as looked them in the eye without permission – he and his brothers have crossed that threshold long ago and so far have lived, but _this –_

They may have clothed them, fed them, freed them from the wretched sea stone and swore their safety, but there's only so far one is willing to go, boundaries that _can't_ be crossed...

 _Dammit, Luffy, what are you doing?_

Luffy seems to ask himself the same thing as his eyes snap open an instant later. Ever so slowly, he lifts his head from Rakuyo's chest to meet his eyes. Rakuyo stares back. Luffy swallows thickly, going very still, a stark contrast to the bouncing rubber ball of joy he'd been mere seconds ago (and an aching familiarity and reminder, lest they dare forget, of what he's become in the absence of such joy.)

And then – _"Awww!"_ Thatch coos – freaking _coos –_ shattering the silence without a shred of remorse, hands under his chin and fingers laced. "That's so cute!"

Startled into reality, Rakuyo blushes a deep red, and has yet to discover what to do with his arms or his mouth as he stammers intelligibly. Marco stands back and chuckles at the state of him, but falls silent when Luffy carefully unwinds his arms from Rakuyo and backs away slowly, like one might when faced with a wild tiger or other ilk of beast.

Only when the boy is a safe distance does Sabo move, scrambling off the bed to Luffy's side, once again forcing him into a bow at the waist. "We're sorry!" he cries. "My brother didn't mean to offend you by touching you, sir. Please, forgive him. We meant no disrespect. We're sorry."

 _Dammit to hell, 'Bo,_ Ace thinks, pained, clenching his fists on the bed-sheets.

(His mind tells him to get up and join them, to bow his head and plead mercy from these pirates, for his brothers' sake if nothing else. His body is another matter, shrieking at him to ignite a fist and swing it – and then he thinks better of it, because _he can't give them that chance again.)_

But not one of the pirates makes move. Rakuyo doesn't scream or shout in outrage, doesn't strike or move to grab them. He stares at Sabo and Luffy's bowed heads wordlessly, and when they don't appear to be standing up any time soon – Sabo surely won't, painful as it is for Ace to watch – Rakuyo turns to Marco and Thatch, his expression silently begging for...help?

One sigh later, it's Thatch who steps forward first. Ace tenses, feeling his fire hum beneath his skin in time to his mounting panic as the taller man nears his little brothers. They stiffen with every echoing step, until there's scant inches separating them.

"Hey, kids," he says, calm and insouciant despite the heavy cloud of trepidation hanging overhead. "It's okay. Don't mind our brother, he's just an awkward, grumpy boy who's not used to hugs; people usually find him too ugly to hug."

Rakuyo splutters. "Oi! The hell're _you_ callin' ugly, you pompadoured bastard?!" he cries.

Thatch ignores with the experienced grace any sibling would be right proud of. "We don't mind hugs around here," he says, emboldened when Luffy and Sabo gradually start to raise their heads, eyes gleaming with confusion. "I mean, sure, some of us aren't all touchy-feely or as eager as _I_ am to share the love ahemMarcoahem –"

"Oi."

"– but seriously, unless we tell you otherwise, go right ahead and tackle anybody you please." And then Thatch's grin is a playful but warm thing as he chuckles. "I bet you'd give the _best_ hugs, little Luffy, since your apparently made of rubber and whatnot. Bet you could even give Pops a run for his Bellie for the best hugger in the _world_."

Luffy blinks at that, straightening fully. Sabo follows slowly, shuffling in place, fingers twitching with indecision. Ace makes to stand, to join them or pull them back to safety, he's not quite sure himself. But he stops midway when Luffy moves again, cautiously lifting his arms from where they'd been plastered at his sides. But he doesn't sign. He lifts his arms and _opens them –_

Ace splutters, and Sabo chokes.

 _Is...Is Luffy asking to_ _ **hug**_ _Thatch?!_

The buccaneer in question looks as stunned as they do and rapidly back-peddles, palms raised. "Hey, no, wait – I didn't say you _have_ to hug anybody," he stutters. "I was just sayin' you _can_ if you _want_ to, no one's forcin' you to do anything –"

'I know,' Luffy signs, and he's smiling again, timid though it is, but it's there and real and void of any fear. 'At least I think so,' he amends with a slight shrug. 'But I'm happy. I want to show how thankful I am for what you have done for me and my brothers. Is that okay?'

Ace stares at his baby brother, blinking owlishly.

Years ago, when they'd been wilder things, free as any child set loose in the jungles and scrapheaps could be, Luffy's boundless, unconditional love and affection was nigh freely given, rubber limbs latching onto anyone with a nice enough smile (and an offering of food never hurt.) Such affection had been all but squashed in recent years, limited to the only two people in the world he could really trust, fearful of any other touch in a way a boy like Luffy should never be.

But for him to willingly approach a pirate, a _stranger,_ after all this time...

(This is _huge_. And damn this pirate to the depths of hell if he _dares_ belittle his baby brother's bravery, regardless whether he understands or not.)

Evidently, however, Thatch does understand, if his incredibly wide yet cottony smile isn't telltale enough. He spreads his arms wide. "Alright then, kiddo. Bring it in!" he chimes.

Giggling softly, Luffy bites his lip and takes careful steps forward until he meets Thatch's chest, wrapping his arms around the man's waist. The boy is positively _tiny_ in comparison, and is all but swallowed up as Thatch's arms come around Luffy's slim shoulders, slow and careful like the boy is made of spiderwebs and morning dew.

It's an endearing sight, Ace can't help but think – endearing enough that Marco nor Rakuyo can hide their grins. Sabo blinks, and then the barest of chuckles, awed and beguiled, slips passed his lips.

(Ace...is having a hard time wrapping his head around any of this. Surely this is a trick, a dream, a hallucination of some kind...right?)

"There ya go, buddy," Thatch says, patting Luffy's back gently when the kid's shoulders start to tremble. His features soften once more, and his hands don't move from Luffy's spine. "You really are brave, y'know that? Hell, all of you are. And don't worry – like I said, you don't have to do this all the time if you don't want to."

He raises his eyes to meet Ace's, and for a moment, the sudden weight of the guilty undercurrent swirling in his eyes threatens to crush him. "And no gets to _touch_ you either, unless you're okay with it. Understand?" The question is open, but his gaze is fixed on Ace.

It doesn't take long to understand why.

 _Last night. When he hit me on the back. He remembers that?_

Ace is so stunned he almost forgets to nod, swallowing hard. The tension seems to drain from the pirates' very body, and the smile Ace receives in return is a relieved, thankful thing. In the face of it, Ace locks his jaw and looks away.

Luffy sniffles, then, and lifts his damp face from Thatch's chest. The man looks down again in time to see the twelve-year-old smile, brighter than any sun can hope to rival, wider than any sea and just as endless. Thatch blinks, stares.

And in the next instant he's huddled in the corner of the room, his back turned to them as he covers his face with his arms and weeps. Luffy, arms up and open where Thatch had been seconds prior, stares after the man as he lowers them back his sides, confused.

"Dude, what the hell?" Rakuyo guffaws. Sabo's mouth twitches in what might be the beginnings of a startled laugh, one he stifles with a hand over his mouth. Ace watches on, perplexed.

"I can't do it, man!" Thatch wails from his little corner, perfectly melodramatic in every way. He sniffs, loud and messy. "Those – those trusting eyes, staring into my very _soul~!"_

"Thatch, get up. You're freaking the kids out, yoi."

"They're cinnamon rolls, too good for this world~!"

" _Thatch –"_

" _Too pure!"_

" _Pffthahahaha –!"_

All heads whirl on Sabo, Thatch's feigned wailing falling silent, at the loud snort of laughter.

Blanching, Sabo slaps his palm over his mouth. Blue eyes are wide, shifting between the pirates, until he bows his head. Again. "I'm sorry!" he cries. _Again._

 _Oh, Sabo._

The response this time around, however, is quicker; Marco waves a dismissive hand. "Don't sweat it, kid," he says. Sabo tentatively raises his head, hands lowering from his mouth. Marco flashes him a kind smile. "Go right ahead and laugh at Thatch, yoi. That's what everyone else does whenever he's in the room."

Thatch is nodding along right up until the backhand, and he splutters – "Hey now!"

"What?" Rakuyo chortles, going over to give Thatch yet another friendly cuff upside the head for his troubles. "You're gonna act like a fool, might as well laugh, right?"

" _Ow!_ Why do you _hit_ me?! It's not okay to hit! I'll tell Pops on you!"

The juvenile bickering continues from there; Luffy giggles at the display, tears long gone. Sabo's spine uncurls from its submissive hunch, and slowly, another smile spreads his lips, a light chuckle no longer stifled.

Ace ignores the pirates, eyes fixed on his brothers. They're...happy. Calm, if not hesitant still. And Ace has to admit, the commanders' presence, their easy-going nature, with them and amongst themselves, is a familiar and oddly consoling thing. He's uncertain as to where this 'brother' situation between them stems from, nor can he fathom anyone daring to refer to Whitebeard as 'Pops' of all things, but the bond these pirates share...it's reminiscent of what Ace shares with Sabo and Luffy; a bond forged not by blood, but by choice.

(They're like a family. Just what kind of pirates _are_ these guys?)

There's eyes on him, and Ace turns his head to meet them. From across the room, Marco regards him in silence, also ignoring the childish rumpus his shipmates are causing in the background. He quirks a brow, a question in his eyes all too easy to decipher.

 _What do you think?_

Ace takes a moment. He looks at his hands, clear of muck and blood from the showers and the bath, at the scarred skin of his bare ankle, the fresh clothes adorning his thin frame and the bandages wrapped around the treated wounds underneath (and the bruises marring his mangled back, the ache dimming with each passing hour), remembering the taste of warm, unspoiled food made for _them –_

He briefly meets Marco's eyes and holds his gaze. He clenches his jaw, fingers curling into loose fists on his lap.

(A part of him _wants_ to believe it's all a part of the facade, a cruel game they're playing to win their trust and dash their hopes when the time comes – and it _always_ does. The other part, the part that believes in Luffy's judgement, the part that yearns and _hopes_ for freedom, thinks otherwise.

But for now...)

He averts his gaze from Marco's piercing blue, instead watching Luffy shuffle close to Sabo and wrap his arms around the blond's middle, an action returned with warmth and love as Sabo folds Luffy into an embrace, smiling into his black hair. He ignores Marco, even when the commander releases a small sigh through his nose. It sounds disappointed, but accepting nonetheless. Ace grudgingly respects him for it.

 _'Not yet',_ he thinks, that same mantra from a time and a place Ace will never know but will forever cling to regardless.

He's grateful, truly. But unlike his younger brothers, he's not about to throw that gratitude at them like a garden sprinkler**. He needs...time. Something these pirates, and their captain, seem more than willing to give them.

 _'Just..not yet.'_

* * *

(*) – a girl's best friend, a song reference and a jab at Jozu

(**) – a quite from my s-word master XD

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N~ Hellooo! This chapter is kinda long, and I was originally gonna cut it in half, but I NEEDED to get the boys outta that room at some point XD** **Also, I've noticed a few reviewers mentioning hints at potential Marco/Ace. Firstly, I have absolutely nothing against the ship, but with him meeting Ace as a 15 year old, a minor, I don't feel comfortable writing it as a ship (tbh I never intended Marcoace in this fic other than platonic). Sorry if I disappoint anyone DX XD**

 **Another special mention to the following:**

 **CanIHaveAHug: My dear, I shall WATER THINE CROPS WITH YET MORE OF THE FEELINGS, YE SHALL NOT BE DEPRIVED XD**

 **MelodioofHope: They're the best cinnamon rolls, I love them so much T_T**

 **Wordlet: I NEVER mind long reviews, they're my faves XD And yes, I make an effort to spread the focus on all the bros; if the story is centered around just one I'm okay with it usually, but in fics like these where ASL have been together for a long time and have been through some STUFF, you can't just focus on one of them; we need a window into the thoughts/feelings of the other two. Thanks for the review!**

 **Gropes: First of all, your name makes me giggle, and yes, you shall have more XD**

 **Royiah: Yes. Just yes. :D Luffy's hugs shall not be denied.**

 **On that note, on with the chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

" _Captain! Marine vessel on the horizon!"_

 _Shanks pries his eyes open with great reluctance, stifling a mighty groan as he sits up. His back creaks in protest, an unhappy reminder of the years catching up to him; in hindsight, leaning against a rock for a nap really wasn't the best idea, but he's been known to make dumber decisions in his lifetime. One of them had cost him his left arm, but that, at least, he knows was worth it. He'd bet that arm on the new era, after all._

 _(And a boy like that...well, he might not be able to see into the future, but the view from his standing looks bright.)_

 _What_ isn't _worth anything, he grouses, is having to wake up from a blissful nap in the sun on a beautiful island retreat to the unwelcome visit from a ship full of Marines. Worse still, he's still kind of hungover from last night, hence the nap. Even so, he stands up, dusting the dirt and sand off his pants and cloak and walks over to the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea, coming to stand by his subordinate on lookout duty. His jaw cracks with a mighty yawn. "Any idea who it is?" he asks, lifting his hand to scratch the back of his head. "Much as I'd like to believe a bunch of rookies would track us down to have a go, I highly doubt it."_

 _The young man with the spyglass leans forward a bit (like_ that'll _help,) and Shanks shifts a little closer in case he has to prevent this dumbass from taking a swim. "Uh...can't tell the crew from here yet, but there's a big-ass dog figurehead on the bow, captain."_

 _Shanks freezes mid-scratch, eyes bulging. A dog figurehead on a Marine vessel? Heading their way?_

 _Crud. It's freakin' Garp the First._

" _H-How far out are they?" he asks, cursing himself just a little for the stutter that everyone within earshot stifles a laugh at._

" _I'd say about thirty minutes, Cap," the lookout says._

 _Shanks hangs his head in despair. "So, too late to run then," he mutters. He's seriously not in the mood for this man and his galore of eccentricities/bouts of anger. He's probably come to yell at him, or beat the holy hell out of him for 'converting his precious grandson into a pirate' – hadn't the first time been enough? The ensuing brawl had lasted five days and nearly destroyed the island. Good thing this one's uninhabited, at least._

 _(Still, despite his own grievances, he hardly blames the old coot. He'd known that day would come sooner than later the second he'd left his treasure with the boy, despite how...little Garp truly seems to be a part of Luffy's life other than the occasional beating – ah, 'training' rather – every other month. He'll give the man this, though; he does love his grandson, in his own strange, if not violent and irresponsible way. And to hear that he'd been influenced by one of the most dangerous and infamous pirates on the seas must've been_ less _than amusing.)_

 _There's a familiar chuckle behind him, and then his first-mate stands at his right and only hand, arms folded and a smirk on his face that's not at all helpful. "Certainly looks like it, Cap'n," Ben says around his cigar. "Even if we did, if it's for what I think it is, that crazy bastard will follow us all the way to hell 'till he gets your head on a platter. Might as well face the consequences. Again."_

 _Shanks pulls a face, affronted in a manner that's only half feigned. "What consequences? All I did was –"_

" _Convince a Vice Admiral's six-year-old grand-kid to become the next Pirate King when he grows up," Yasopp hoots, along with a good handful of others gathering at the commotion. "Yeah, don't see how_ anything _bad could'a come outta that, boss!"_

 _Shanks doesn't pout. He_ doesn't _. He's a grown-ass man and an Emperor to boot; Emperors do not_ pout. _But it's a close thing. "Alright, alright, shut up you lot," he calls, and of course they only listen to a degree; there's still some snickers floating as he makes his way through the crowd and down to the beach, Ben and Lucky Roo at his heels. The rest of them follow once they've gotten over their giggles._

 _Useless scallywags, the lot of them. Surely this is a form of mutiny._

 _Spying the ship approaching the shore at a rapid speed, Shanks squares his shoulders. He knows he's strong, no doubt, and his crew a reliable bunch despite their bouts of childish idiocy. But Garp could go toe-to-toe with Roger, a man who always kicked Shanks' ass when he was a brat. And time means little to the marine if he's still able to chuck_ cannonballs _like tennis balls at his age._

 _(This future does_ not _look bright, not for Red Hair.)_

 _Eventually, the ship drops anchor and settles at the shore. A gangplank drops to the damp sand, and minutes later, Garp the Fist himself steps down. His shoulders are barren of the navy coat he usually dons, leaving him in a dark suit and tie and polished shoes that scuff against the sand. That's odd enough for a colorful man like him, but his expression is a disconcerting mix of fury and...something else that has the pirate's heart sink with dread, and not for his own well-being for once._

 _The old Marine approaches at an even gait, an old box in his hands and a deep frown marring his scarred face. He stops a few scant feet from the pirate captain, staring him down. Shanks stares back and waits. The sea gently laps against the white sand and the mighty vessel anchored at her shore. Wind sweeps through the tropical trees and flora, rustling hair and coats in the warm, sea-salt breeze, gulls screeching their dissonance in the endless blue overhead._

 _Then – "I'd like to speak to you in private, Red Hair," Garp says at last, his gravelly voice decibels lower than what Shanks (and the rest of the world, probably) is used to._

 _Shanks regards the man before him, grey eyes traveling up and down. Just looking at him, anyone can see the Vice Admiral isn't here to fight. He cuts a glance at the crew still on the ship, and none of them have their weapons drawn; they're merely peering over the bow, watching their leader and the pirates with curious eyes, young and old alike._

 _Shanks trades a look with Benn. The other man's countenance gives nothing away, but the curious glint in his eye is telling enough, and he dips his head only slightly. With that, Shanks turns back to Garp, and cocks his head toward the trees, turning on his heel. Garp follows without a word, ignoring the lingering crew as they pass and enter the jungle, heading deeper inland._

 _This jungle is thick, untamed, and home to plenty of unusual species of beasts, all of which hide within the bushes and in the looming, green canopy, avoiding the powerful humans treading through the foliage of their island home. They've learned their lesson after a particularly ballsy, giant of a tiger had tried to sink his claws into the red-headed pirate, only to end up unconscious on the beach, frothing at the mouth, not a scratch on him or the man._

 _Shanks and Garp reach a clearing, quiet and private as per the Marine's request. Shanks takes a seat on a fallen tree trunk, arm resting on his knee, looking up at the cheerless man. He cracks a slight smirk despite this. "I take it you're not here to tell me off like last time," he says, "or for a drink."_

 _Garp raises a hand, the box tucked under the other arm, and shakes his head. "No, thanks. I'd rather be sober for this." His frown deepens, and the arm around the box tenses. There's something dark, barely repressed, swirling in his eyes. "And I've had enough to drink in the last few months than I have in years as a sailor," he adds._

 _The smirk falls from Shank's lips as quick as it came. "I see. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit, Vice Admiral? Never pegged you as the type to chat with pirates, much less me."_

" _Believe me, Red Hair, any other day I'd have your ass. But this..." he sighs, heavy with all the burdens of the world on his shoulders. He takes the box, an old wooden thing with chips and cracks littered all over with age. Shanks stands from his perch as Garp opens the box and presents it. "I believe...this belongs to you."_

 _Shanks freezes. Impossibly wide eyes stare with horror, confusion, a foreign flavor of fear, at the straw hat sitting inside the little wooden box._

 _It's_ that _hat; Rogers' gift to him as a scrappy cabin boy, the very same he'd passed down to the little brat on a little island in East Blue, who'd looked him in the eye and swore to surpass him, swore to the title of a king for all that he was tiny for his age, and an anchor and a crybaby and a joy and delight and wonder forever –_

 _That hat. Is sitting in a box. In the hands of a Vice Admiral. And not on the downy head of a little boy he'd grown far too fond of._

 _Jaw locking, Shanks' eyes slide up to meet Garp's. The aura pouring from him sends light tremors throughout the clearing, darkening the heavens above. It's all he can do to quell the building tempest of rage burning hot and violent in his chest. "What happened?" he asks, calm but dark as the the gathering storm clouds. He wonders if Benn is already cautioning the crew to keep away from the borderline of the jungle. Maybe further._

 _Garp, of course, is not at all intimidated. All that remains is bitter resignation, grief embedded into the lines of his wrinkled frown like a brand. "Slavers," he says._

 _The fallen trunk Shanks had sat on cracks and then explodes in a shower of wood. Neither pay it any mind._

 _Garp continues. "Some nobleman in the High Town district caught his own kid running around with my boys. Rather than contact the local authorities, the man went to the first crew of washed-up pirates he could find to bring him back. The kid managed to run away again a few days later, though, so the bastard decided to go the extra mile and hire slavers instead...to keep my boys away for good. Of course they took all of 'em, including the noble son. Since they'd been employed under the name of one of the more reputable nobles in the city, no one could do anything about it._

" _This," he raises the box, "was all Makino had left when I got there. She'd called, told me everything. She'd watched 'em drag the kids off, held back by Woop Slap for her own safety..."_

 _Shanks' heart clenches a second time. Oh, Makino..._

 _The hand that reaches for the box is steady despite the trembling anger, the heartache_ , _welling up within him as he gently plucks the hat from the box, bringing it close and running his thumb over the old brim. It's still in perfect condition. "...I see," he murmurs._

 _It's barely been two years, and already his captain's old treasure has been returned to him. And Luffy's grandfather is the one to bring it, along with the news of his..._

 _Shanks' hand clenches around the hat pressed against his chest, the old straw crackling in protest. It's too soon. Far too soon, for the boy he'd come to love, no matter how brief their time had been._

 _It's too soon. And he won't stand for it._

 _He raises his eyes to Garp again, and he understands, now, why he'd sought the Emperor out. "...where?"_

" _No idea," Garp replies immediately, scrubbing a hand over his weary eyes. "It's been months. Only lead I have is that these guys make routes from Paradise to East Blue, and are conveniently under the radar of the World Government. Not nearly enough to narrow it down, not without the name of the ship, crew or captain, none of which Makino was able to tell me – tried her damn hardest, though, bless her heart. Plenty of slavers go to East Blue, being the weaker of the Blues. Easy pickings for 'em."_

 _Shanks tries not to shudder, but it's a close thing. "That's good enough for me," he says instead. Garp stares at Shanks long and hard. Shanks stares back._

 _An alliance, should word get out and reaches the ears of the World Government, might mean more than just their heads. But for Luffy – and even the other brats, other grandsons apparently, whom Garp clearly loves – it's worth the risk, like his arm had been worth the little life he'd saved that day._

 _As a pirate, Shanks can do things that Garp, already under the watchful eye of the world with his ties to his own son, simply can't without repercussions, even for the life of his grandchild. It's sick, saddening, but there's little to be done on their part to change that. At least on their end. Dragon is another matter._

 _Speaking of which – "Does he know?" Shanks asks._

 _Garp sighs again, a heavy thing. "Not yet," he admits. "Call me a coward, but I'm not ready to face that storm yet, or subject the rest of the world to it."_

" _And yet you come to_ me, _first?" It's almost enough to crack a smile out of both of them. Almost, but not quite. And again, the same stands for the illustrious leader of the Revolutionaries; they're incredibly adept at what they do, but there's only so much, and the rage of a father is a terrifying thing; rage that often leads to recklessness, even among men like Dragon. Even among men like Shanks. He's not a father, certainly not Luffy's, but..._

 _Shanks' hand tightens around the hat, and the grin he casts across his face is a jagged, feral thing. "Where do we start?"_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

" _The commanders and I wanna show you three around the Moby tomorrow morning, seeing as you're staying with us for the foreseeable future, yoi. But only if you want to. If you'd prefer to stay in here, you're more than welcome to do just that."_

Marco's parting words echo in Ace's ears even now as he stares up at the ceiling of their cabin. It's not particularly interesting, but sleep has once again decided to be the elusive bitch she is, leaving Ace restless and frustrated in the midnight gloom. Not even the steady pulse of his fire is enough to lull him to sleep – or maybe it's what's keeping him awake, so used to being dormant, shackled and suffocated until permitted otherwise.

Regardless, he's awake in the middle of the damn night, aboard a ship full of pirates who's intentions are...far from what Ace had expected, thus far, and a captain who can literally crush them between his fingers without so much as batting an eye.

(Yeah, _that_ surely helps putting one to sleep. Thanks, unwanted images, you're an ass.)

Needless to say, it's been an eventful day. A day of which has been spent mostly within the confines of their cabin, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the crew.

The three pirate commanders had left shortly after whatever the hell it was Thatch and Rakuyo were even arguing about had come to an end, the former promising yet more food at a later date – dinner, basically. (Such a promise, a concept of more than one or two meals a day, had Luffy throw his arms around the fourth commander a second time; the man was again reduced to melodramatic tears.) Marco had paused briefly at the door to make them an offer – not a demand – before departing with his crew-mates, satisfied with Ace's half-hearted "maybe."

In the interim, the boys were left to their own devices. Luffy was bouncing off the walls – literally – laughing and giggling and pulling stupid faces to make Sabo laugh; his efforts were not wasted, and the tense blond was in a fit of breathless hysterics in minutes. Ace had watched them, a grin stealing his face and warmth coursing through him, now in more ways than one _._

(A shame he couldn't quite follow Luffy's lead however; untamed bursts of fire don't mix well with wood, so he hears.)

As promised, Thatch returned a short while later, alone, with food in his arms and a cheerful greeting. As they ate, the commander had casually, though eagerly with a dash of hope, brought up Marco's earlier offer again to join them above deck come morning. He took their hesitance in stride, but assured them that at least two commanders would accompany them the whole time should they change their minds. Getting re-acquainted with the captain can come much later.

That's a meeting Ace fears he'll never be ready for. Or worthy enough, the way he is now.

Thatch had left soon after they'd finished eating, wishing them a good night's rest and pleasant dreams. And yet neither come to Ace now as he lies here, staring up at the ceiling, thoughts whirling without quarter in his brain like a raging sea.

He soon gets sick of counting the cracks in the wooden panels and rolls to his side, seeking his brothers in the dark. Luffy is tucked up against Sabo's chest, fast asleep and softly snoring; they've pulled all three beds together, uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping separately. (Thatch hadn't said anything of it when he'd dropped by; he'd just smiled and rolled with it.)

Unheeding of Rakuyo's prior warnings, Luffy had managed to exhaust himself with his endless bouncing and stretching (though who is anyone to blame him?), asleep the moment his head hit the pillow; Sabo joining him to wrap him up in the safety of his arms only ensured his departure from the waking world. The blond has long since shut his eyes, breaths soft against the top of Luffy's head. But Ace would be a fool to think his twin is truly asleep.

And so – "Sabo," he whispers. Blue and grey eyes snap open in an instant, glowing in the dimness. Ace smirks. "Can't sleep either?"

Sabo shrugs a shoulder. "Sorta," he whispers back, running the hand not pinned under Luffy's frame through the boy's wayward hair. "'M tired, but...too much in my head..."

Ace nods. He lifts an arm and drapes it over Luffy to catch Sabo's arm in a careful grip, pulling him and the younger nestled between them closer; Luffy snorts in his sleep at the movement, but soon settles against Ace's chest, nuzzling into the warmth flowing off the freckled teen in gentle waves. The older two spare a moment to smile at the sleping boy. "Same here," Ace mumbles, meeting Sabo's inquisitive gaze. "This is...I dunno –"

"Crazy?"

Ace snorts. "Maybe a little." The smile fades just as quickly, though, uncertainty taking hold once more. He sighs softly into Luffy's hair. "I'm...I don't know about this, 'Bo," he admits. "I mean, all this is great, what they've done, and I'm grateful, really. But..."

(The damned voices in his head, screaming _'lies, betrayal, tricks,_ _ **don't trust them'**_ are louder than those that plead he open his heart for once and _try_. But it's been years, and his heart is as black and yellow as his back, marred with scars that might linger until his dying day. One more hit and there's no saving it...)

A warm calloused hand covers his, the thumb smoothing over his knuckles. Ace lifts his eyes to Sabo's, and the blond cracks a rueful smile. "It is a lot to take in, isn't it?" he asks. When Ace nods, he chuckles and squeezes Ace's hand once. "Guess they...really want us to trust them. Going through all this effort, taking off the sea stone..."

Ace lifts a brow. "And?"

Sabo bites his lip, chewing it for a moment. "...well, the fact that we're still alive counts for _something,_ right?" he offers. At Ace's dubious look, he rolls his eyes. "Look, so far they've given us no real reason not to trust them. They gave you back your _fire_ , Ace. Doesn't that mean _something_?"

"Of course it does. But that's just three guys, four counting Izo," Ace argues. "What's to say that the rest of the crew are the same? A crew this big is _bound_ to have more than a few bad eggs. Unless I was right, and this really _is_ some kind of sick game they're playing..." He doesn't sound quite as convinced as he (sort of) feels, even to his own ears. Sabo shares the sentiment, his sigh telling enough.

"Alright, how about this?" the blond offers, shuffling closer and squishing Luffy between them (he's too far gone to notice, or even if he does, he certainly won't complain). "We'll take them up on their offer. Tomorrow morning, we go up and check the ship out. If we see or find anything even slightly wrong, or if Luffy comes across one too many of those 'bad eggs', we'll come right back here. We'll decide whether to stay or leave based on that. Sound fair?"

Nosing Luffy's hair absently, Ace mulls it all over. Admittedly, it's a much better plan than the mere skeleton plan that was Ace's former 'escape strategy'. Better still, it'll give them a chance to map the place out, find the kitchens and other stock holds for them to pilfer supplies should they need them. As for mingling with the crew, hundreds of powerful men and women, pirates under Whitebeard... He looks at Sabo. "...what about you?" he asks. "Being with the crew, I mean. You sure you're comfortable with that?"

"No," Sabo's reply is immediate, breathless almost, and his hand clings to Ace's like a lifeline as he shuts his eyes, lips pressed together. Ace gives his brother a moment, twisting his hand in Sabo's grip until their fingers are intertwined. Then Sabo sighs, heavy from his soul, and opens his eyes. "...I...I doubt I'll ever be, if I'm honest," he whispers, his voice tight. "But...if we're gonna move on, then we need to take the first steps. Conquer our fears, get stronger..."

His eyes narrow, and Ace could almost weep at the revived vitality in the mismatched blue and grey. "...break the last few chains shackling us to that godforsaken place once and for all."

Not for the first time and certainly not the last, Ace is so _proud_ of his brother, proud of the renewed resolve agleam in his eyes; the same that had given him the strength to take down the guard and guide their path to freedom, to rebel against his parents at a tender age and make a home among the scraps, and then among an unruly troop of bandits and two, raggedy, lonely kids who shared his lifelong dream.

Ace smiles, wide and real, and presses a kiss against against Sabo's forehead, the blond jolting in surprise at the gesture. "Yeah," he says, and if his voice sounds a little choked neither of them bring it up. "I mean...jeez, I still don't know what the hell these crazy bastards are trying to do –"

" _Ace_ –"

"I know, 'Bo, I know. But...for your sake and Luffy's...for the sake of moving on, letting go, I'll...I'll try."

Sabo's smile is a slow thing but a bright one. "And that's all we ask, Ace. That's more than enough," he says. Ace smiles back.

" _Shishishi!"_

They both jump, startled, and then glare at the giggling, _very_ wide awake little boy squished between them, shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation like the heathen he is. And because said heathen appears utterly unrepentant for prying, grinning up at them cheekily –

"You sneaky little bugger!" Ace grabs him around the waist and squeezes, earning a high-pitched squeak and then a helpless stream of giggles from the rubber boy as he flails in Ace's unrelenting grip, kicking the blankets off. "What did we tell you about listening in on big brother conversations?" Ace admonishes with no heat and a grin pressed against Luffy's neck.

"To do it, apparently," Sabo chuckles, sitting up and watching them go at it, and then laughing instead of helping when Luffy twists in Ace's arms and bites his shoulder. Ace yelps, smothering curses, and Sabo tries to hush them through his own giggles.

The wrestling and laughter simmers eventually, leaving them boneless and giddy. Luffy lies sprawled on top of Ace, head on Ace's chest to listen to his heart-beat. The older boy runs a hand through the ebony mess of hair. "So, what do you think, Lu?" he asks after a short lull of silence. Luffy's eyes flutter open, and he meets Ace's questioning gaze. "You okay with going up there tomorrow?"

Pausing briefly to spare a glance at Sabo, Luffy sits up to straddle Ace's middle, folding his arms over his chest with a thoughtful pout. Ace props himself up on his elbows and waits. Sure enough – 'I agree with Sabo,' he signs for S and drags his palm down the left side of his face for Sabo's scar. 'If we want to be free, we have to get strong and face our fears. And besides,' he adds, smiling brightly, 'I like the commanders, especially Thatch. The big captain is kind. I can tell.'

Ace hums under his breath, considering. He cocks a brow. "...what about the rest of the crew? What if they're not like Marco or Thatch or –" he grimaces "– Whitebeard?"

Luffy doesn't hesitate. 'Then we get off at the next island like we said before. I'd rather it just be the three of us then stick around with a bunch of jerks.'

Ace can't help but snicker; Luffy's never had the tolerance for bullies. Five years of enduring some of the worst _back there_ is more than enough.

Heaving a sigh, Ace lets himself flop backwards onto the mattress, which Luffy predictably takes as an invitation to sprawl over him again, cuddling against his chest and sighing happily; Ace just rolls his eyes and throws his arm around Luffy. "Alright then," he mutters. "Looks like we're goin' up tomorrow. Facing our fears and whatnot."

"You don't sound overly excited," Sabo teases, shuffling closer and bringing the blankets back over them, settling against Ace despite his earlier bitching about it being too hot now with Ace's body temperature rising to match his unbound devil fruit.

Ace smirks. "Neither do you."

Sabo shrugs, muffling a yawn against Ace's shoulder. "Least I'm honest about it," he says. "Still...best to get it over with. And...and I'll try not to...y'know..."

He doesn't need to elaborate. And they both know one day interacting with a crew of pirates of all things won't change it, not right away, or at all if things decide go awry. So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls Sabo closer. "Get some sleep, 'Bo," he whispers, Luffy settling to sleep atop him. "We'll deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes." His cheek against Ace's shoulder, one hand reaching up to clench his shirt, Sabo eventually closes his eyes.

Soon enough, the younger two are finally out like lights, for real. In turn, Ace's eyelids grow heavy, sleep finally deciding to stop being the elusive wretch. He settles into his brothers' embrace and closes his eyes, one final thought rolling about in his brain before dreams, good or bad, claim him.

 _'Twenty-four hours. Let's see who you Whitebeard's really are.'_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

The first thing Luffy does when their feet touch the top deck is rush to the nearest railing, dragging Sabo and Ace with him despite their flailing, and lean over the side to gaze upon the open waters of the Grand Line.

Five years since he's seen the ocean, and it's still as beautiful, as vast and endless and so vibrantly _blue_ as he remembers _,_ the gentle waves lapping against the ship and glistening in the morning sun's lovely golden rays, carrying this mighty vessel along with grace and ease unmatched. Luffy's laughter falls, a breathless thing as he stares open mouthed, fingers gripping the banister hard enough to blister the rubber skin. Sabo and Ace are silent beside him, but Luffy feels their awe as keenly as his own.

For so long they'd dreamed of setting sail to the Grand Line, pirate captains of their own vessels or a crew all their own, free as the blowing winds and adventure awaiting them on the horizon. Things had taken...an _awful,_ unexpected turn, their dreams put on hold in their fight for survival.

But despite it all, they're here. They're alive, and they're _here._ They've made it.

(But Luffy knows all too well how much they've yet to go before they're ready to face such seas alone. Before they're truly free. But he has to admit, this is one hell of a start.)

"Been a while since you've seen the briny blue, huh kiddos?" Luffy jumps only slightly at Thatch's voice (oh yeah, they were supposed to be following him, Marco and Izo to the galley, and yet Luffy had scampered off to the rails like an idiot. Whoops.)

The boys all turn on their heels to face the fourth commander; the man has his hands on his hips and a soft smile on his scarred face as he stares out into the blue oblivion, his eyes distant and fond as though he's seeing off an old friend. He breathes in deep through his nose and releases a happy sigh, long and content, shoulders drooping as he relaxes.

For all his dramatics and eccentricities, Thatch always seemed laid-back to Luffy. But this is...this is _peace_ , satisfaction with the world and everything in it even for a moment. It's been so long since Luffy's felt the same, back when life seemed simpler, a little more innocent...even with bandits and pirates and corrupt nobles of whom they robbed on a daily basis.

"I've been sailing these seas for a while now," Thatch says after a short lull, only the gulls, the waves and the daily doings of the crew for company; his voice is soft, almost reverent, "and it never gets old. Waking up to nothing but the sea and the sky all around you...that's freedom. Well, _our_ freedom anyway."

Luffy stares up at the pirate commander with wonder, respect, brown eyes blown wide with it. He looks across at Marco and Izo coming up behind him, and their soft smiles speak the same truth, carry the same warmth and fondness for the endless blue. They love freedom, treasure it the same way Luffy and his own brothers do. The same way Shanks did...

(The stabbing reminder of that red-haired pirate, the promise they'd made and the treasure he'd left behind almost brings tears to Luffy's eyes.

He fights them off. This is no place to cry.)

"What about you three?" Thatch asks suddenly, jolting Luffy from his thoughts. The older pirate cracks a grin and cocks his head to the side, leading onward down the deck to the galley; the crew has already begun to come alive, teeming with pirates of every size and shape, some eyes drawn to the three brothers following after the commander in curiosity, similar to yesterday. Luffy shuffles closer to Ace on instinct, but at Marco's pointed look and Izo's hand drifting towards his pistol, none of them come any closer. "You ever think about setting sail at all?" Thatch continues once they've past the worst of the prying gazes.

Sabo bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. A stray curl of blond comes loose as the wind sweeps over them, and he tucks the stubborn thing behind his ear with a finger. "...uh...well..." he trails off, hesitant. Luffy squeezes his hand, and offers his best encouraging grin; it does the trick, for Sabo swallows once and keeps going. "We...we wanted to set sail when we turned seventeen and become pirates, si – I mean, ah, M-Mister Thatch."

(Luffy could dance with glee he's so proud. Mister is a far cry better than 'sir' in his book.)

But then Thatch snorts, loudly, and barks a laugh. Sabo jolts, startled, and ducks his head immediately. Ace immediately bristles at Luffy's other side; he looks about ready to do something that just might be stupid before Thatch turns to Marco –

"He called me _Mister_ ," he snickers to his fellow commander, who looks less than entertained and more exasperated in a fashion Luffy has become quite acquainted with since pledging brotherhood; he's been on the receiving end of multiple 'Dumbass Brother' glares in his lifetime to know it when he sees it. "D'you guys here that?" Thatch goes on, puffing his chest out and grinning fit to burst, "I'm _Mister_ Thatch now –"

"Shut that mouth of yours, brother dear, before a shove the barrel of my gun up your backside," Izo chimes with a sweet smile to match, one hand curling around the handle of a pistol tucked in his sash. Thatch shuts his mouth, eyes fixed ahead, sweating. Luffy stifles another giggle, and Ace settles down just barely. Sabo does his best to hide the blush staining his cheeks, but he's not quite successful.

Marco just rolls his eyes at the whole exchange, but cranes his neck to offer Sabo a reassuring smile. "Never mind Thatch, he's just teasing. He likes to remind everyone how much of an idiot he can be, yoi."

Thatch splutters. "Excuse _you –!"_

"But anyway," Marco continues right over Thatch's indignant squalling, falling back a few paces to walk beside the trio instead. "You said you three wanted to be pirates? That's interesting, yoi. Brave, too. What made you decide to pursue such a 'career'?" he asks, not a trace of skepticism or jest in his placid tone. It's surprising; anyone looking at Luffy and his brothers the way they are now, a hairsbreadth away from skin and bones, would deem it impossible, reckless to pursue such a dream. Not Marco, though. None of them do. Their expectant smiles are proof of that.

(Luffy loves them a little more for that.)

So Luffy beams, slipping his hands from his brothers' grip – 'For freedom and adventure,' he signs in reply. Sabo cracks a hesitant smile of his own, the flush across his cheeks abating as he nods in agreement. All eyes fall on Ace next, anticipant but patient.

Though less bristly than he was, Ace's frown remains as he shoves his hands into his pockets, casting his gaze over the sea beyond the boarder of the railings instead. "Same here," he replies eventually. Then his eyes narrow, just slightly, and there's a new _spark_ in the iridescent silver pair; one that Luffy remembers from a lifetime ago, when they'd declared their dreams to the heavens atop a cliff overlooking the vast expanse of the sea below. "And...there's someone I need to surpass," he adds, distantly, as though he's talking to himself and not the trio of curious commanders.

Ahead, Thatch and Izo share a befuddled glance. Marco's eyes narrow on Ace with definite interest.

(Luffy knows full well who Ace is referring to, though after the events of yesterday, he has a distinctly bad feeling that the list of people who's ass his older brother feels he has to kick to prove himself has grown by one more. That one more being...

Ace is strong, Luffy knows, impossibly strong in immeasurable ways, and Luffy couldn't be prouder. But even the strongest have their limit, this Luffy has learned the hard way, and he prays to a god he stopped believing in long ago that his brother knows what he's doing, or at least reconsider. Surely he's sensible enough to think this over properly, right?

The young raven trades a quick look with Sabo, this hopeful question in his eyes. Sabo grimaces, shaking his head.

No. Of course he isn't. _Dammit_.)

Then Marco flashes a grin, half-lidded eyes bright and _knowing_ in a way that makes Luffy's gut churn with dread anew. "I see," he says simply, carrying on along the deck, ignoring the burning pair of metallic eyes now trained on his back. "Well, before you go on surpassing anyone, I suggest we get some food into you first, yoi. Galley's right this way; should be getting empty now that the breakfast rush is nearly over, so you won't have to worry about crowds."

(He doesn't seem at all perturbed that Ace has, non-too subtly, hinted at the possibility of another attack on their own captain. If anything, the idea seems to intrigue him. Luffy, for the life of him, can't fathom why.)

Ace must think the same thing as he narrows his eyes at Marco's back, snorting once and then giving Luffy's hand a gentle tug, and off they go towards the galley. Good thing, too; Luffy could go for something bigger than a single plate of eggs this time.

However, as they descend the steps leading to the galley, the youngest dismisses the curious murmuring between Thatch and Izo ahead of him and instead watches in mild fascination as Sabo and Ace manage to have an entire argument with their eyes and expressions alone.

He can't quite translate all of it, but catches Sabo throwing Ace the 'Seriously?' look, and Ace retorting with his infamous 'You just try to stop me, bitch' frown; Sabo evidently admits defeat after gifting Ace with the 'You're a huge dumbass' sigh, a rough and irritated thing. Ace simply huffs and looks away from Sabo. Sabo huffs and looks away from Ace.

Apparently they've fallen out again. That's nothing new, though, and they'll make up by the end of the day, if not earlier. It happens every time. Luffy's not worried.

He feels eyes on him, a familiar pair that surges no panic, and he looks up to find thatch and Izo giving him and his brothers and odd look; they must've caught some of the exchange, leaving them hilariously clueless. Luffy sympathizes, offering a shrug and a somewhat apologetic smile in return. Big brothers are fickle things at the best and worst of times, and yet he continues to love them.

No matter, though. They have more important things to worry about than petty arguments and apparent threats on the strongest man in the world. They have _food_ to look forward to now, among other things.

Whatever happens in the next few hours will decide what becomes of the three of them; whether they stay, build their trust and confide in the Whitebeard's, or leave and take their chances out there in an unfamiliar world.

Ace's reluctance and Sabo's trepidation aside, Luffy has high hopes. With a captain like Whitebeard, so incredibly strong yet so kind at his core, and commanders as understanding and friendly (dare he say _loving)_ toward each other, accepting and cheerful and _fun_ at the heart of their bond, there's little room left for doubt that they'll at the very least be safe here, for as long as they need to be.

Luffy wouldn't be surprised if, by the end of all this (however long that may be), one of his brothers eventually decides to join the crew. Granted, it's quite a stretch considering the nature of his brothers, but one the boy is willing to bet on with confidence.

(Luffy won't join, however. No matter how great the crew and their captain, Luffy will sail under no flag but his own. He'd made a promise, after all.

A future Pirate King serves no one but himself, the sea as his throne and the wind as his guide to boundless adventure and freedom.)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N~ Hello hello my friends! Sorry for the long wait, seems the chapter just LOVE to give me hell.  
**

 **This was hard to write for two reasons: I wanted to get the boys out on the deck ASAP, but I also didn't want to rush development. They'd made promises to TRY in the previous chapter, but I still wasn't sure if I'd rushed things along. The second reason is because I wanted this to be a little longer, but I've kinda given myself a limit to the number of words per chapter; nothing over 7,000 usually, maybe a little over. 9,000 is pushing it XD**

 **So here you go! Not QUITE as happy with it, but things will DEFINITELY get moving after this chapter. No more dawdling (says she who barely knows what she's doing half the time XD).**

 **A few quick mentions:**

 **CrystalHeart27 - Thank you! Sorry I almost killed you!  
**

 **CanIHaveAHug - heart crushing lines are the best tho XD**

 **Wordlet - That's a good question actually XD Don't worry, I'll try my best to get around to maybe explaining their appearance a little better.**

 **MelodiofHope - Thanks! And some of the crew can actually understand Luffy's sign, but not all of them; the commanders all do, as does Whitebeard.**

 **Sorry if I couldn't reply to everyone, but I appreciate you all!**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Breakfast comes and goes with little incident. The boys, understandably wary among the dwindling assemblage of pirates littered about the galley, adjusted very quickly under the multiple curious gazes watching them from all corners of the room. They ignored every single person in the room aside from the three commanders and each other, as if the other pirates didn't exist at all.

Thatch, oddly enough, was proud of them for it.

When they'd finished, Luffy had timidly asked for seconds – a surprise, considering the boy is all but a twig and _shouldn't_ be able to handle eating too much at one time (example: the apples; forgiven entirely but not forgotten), but a pleasant surprise; it means he still has an appetite at all, that he's able to retain food, and he's mustered the bravery to even _ask_ for more food in the first place. Something that no doubt would have been met with a severe punishment elsewhere...

Again, pride had swelled in the depths of Thatch's ever bleeding heart. Alas, he was forced to deny the request, much to the chagrin of the boy (and his brothers, who'd looked rather hopeful once Luffy had mustered the admirable courage to do what they didn't.) Thatch can only push his luck so far, after all, until Whiskey catches wind of his deeds, and then he's Sea King chow; her wrath knows no bounds. On a bad day, not even Whitebeard dares to cross her.

(Still, the threat of such wrath didn't stop the chef – ever a bleeding heart for the hungry and children alike – from sneaking freshly baked brownies from his nook in the kitchen for them. He's been practicing a new recipe* he'd acquired a few islands back, and three hungry little boys were just the taste-testers he needed.

His only regret is that he didn't have a camera on hand to truly capture their reactions after the first bite; Pops surely would've laughed his ass off.)

Now, Thatch watches from a generous distance as the boys select themselves a spot on the deck by the starboard railing to watch the rest of the crew scamper about the ship, business as usual. Hours prior, Pops had all the commanders inform their respective divisions on the situation regarding their three new guests, so they're no longer _quite_ the object of confusion and peculiarity as they were yesterday, though the odd eye strays in their direction from time to time.

Instead, their focus has switched elsewhere; the Whitebeard family has come together to begin preparations for the festive season, decking the Moby Dick with the appropriate, flashy holiday décor she surely deserves. The more nimble of their siblings are up in the rigging and crows nest or over the sides suspended by ropes to pin up the holly, the bells and decorative lights, others hauling up their cargo from Gar – uh, _that_ island from the storage to the kitchen for Thatch and his cooks to attack at a later date.

He grins to himself, earning a few odd looks from passing crew-mates of which he pays little mind to. He hadn't lied when he'd told his captain he'd be going all out this year.

(And more so now, with three young souls aboard who've only known suffering and fear for who knows how long. Not to mention they'll be stopping at a winter island of all places in a few short days, snowball fights and igloo building guaranteed.

This'll be a treat for them, surely. Thatch can hardly wait.)

Being one of the biggest, most beloved celebrations of the year, all sixteen commanders are hauling ass to assist their fellow brothers and sisters in getting ready. Even Marco (the ever-hovering mother bird he's always been and is now even more so around the little ones) and Izo were forced to dash after breakfast to help their divisions with prep-work, leaving the fourth commander on babysitting duty. Though he does itch to get out there and put up some tinsel (better yet, some 'appropriately' placed mistletoe) Thatch doesn't at all mind this particular task one bit. Nothing new for the eldest of nine siblings; if anything, it's a little nostalgic, minus the constant stream of tears and screams and dirty diapers, of course. _So many diapers._

But speaking of kids...

Thatch tears his eyes from the beginnings of the Christmas tree Blenheim and Jiru are helping to convert the mast into, turning back to where the boys have stationed themselves, probably with no intention of moving from said spot. As what Thatch has come to see as the norm between the brothers, Luffy is sandwiched between the older two, both of whom stand protective and ever vigilant. It's wretchedly sweet.

On Luffy's right, Sabo's wide eyes flicker from one point to another, never lingering on one thing or person for more than a second before the next thing draws his gaze like a moth to a flame. They're filled with _need_ , the same you'd find in the eyes of a young child seeking to _know,_ drinking in their surroundings and wanting to understand everything and anything about this vast, wonderful world they've been born into, asking question after question until they're satisfied, until the next big thing sets them off anew. It's a humbling thing, and incredibly endearing.

This child, however, remains at his brothers' side and keeps silent, withholding his curiosity.

(Something in Thatch's heart clenches. More than anything, he wants to tell the kid to go for it, pester anyone he likes and just _ask._ But _wanting_ something is one thing, _doing_ it is another. For a fifteen-year-old boy who's life hung on his compliance, to bend to the will of _others_ rather than his own...it might be a while yet before he's ready. Thatch just hopes it's not _too_ long.)

Luffy seems happy enough, swinging his legs where he's perched atop the railing, Ace's arm bracing him from behind in case he tips a little too far backwards (watching a devil fruit eater sitting so nonchalantly on the only barrier separating him from life and death is not quite doing Thatch's heart any favors). There's a smile on his face, placid and at ease, and a wondrous radiance in his eyes that equals Sabo's as he sweeps his gaze about the bustling ship, gasping softly in quiet awe when Rakuyo manages to get the Christmas lights wrapped around the mast; they glow like fireflies in the chocolate-brown of Luffy's eyes. Even Sabo pauses in his silent investigation to gaze upon the beauty of the Whitebeard's makeshift tree, grinning softly.

Thatch has to wonder...how long has it been since they've seen anything to do with Christmas, celebrated it with their friends and family, before the world got its hands on them? Do they even know what it _is_? What it feels like to be surrounded by people who love you so unconditionally, to be showered with gifts and have _fun..._

Ace, again, remains silent and stiff where he leans against the rail. His frown is no longer the austere, suspicious thing it had been back in the galley nor is it the hateful, distrustful sneer of yesterday, but it's still there, and therein lies the issue. The freckled youth is guarded, wary, watching the crew intently, flashing warning glares at any who so much as looks or steps in their direction, a clear warning if ever there was one.

(Belatedly, Thatch realizes whatever threats Ace may or may not dish out or carry in his thoughts...he can fulfill them dutifully, _accurately_ , now that the sea stone has been removed. And no one yet knows whether the boy can truly control his power – his _fire._ Not that the commander will _ever_ regret removing those horrific shackles off the teen, but still...)

Luffy moves, then, tapping his brothers' shoulders to draw their attention. Snapping from their respective reveries, they look up at him in unison as he starts to sign, smiling wide. It's rude to pry, and Thatch really doesn't mean to (their trust in him alone hangs by a thread as it is, no matter the hugs and laughter and smiles) but he catches a few specific words; 'pirates', 'good' and 'explore'.

The latter is met with Ace's disapproving frown and Sabo's reluctance as his eyes dart away, fingers messing with each other in a show of uncertainty. Luffy, unsatisfied and utterly petulant, whirls on them with the biggest damn puppy eyes Thatch has ever seen on a human face, lower lip protruding and quivering like he's on the brink of tears. It's already felled any unfortunate bastards who've dared look the boy's direction, and it cracks at Ace's resolve now.

Sabo has already given in, hands thrown up in defeat; Ace puts up a good fight until he, too, acquiesces, rolling his eyes to the heavens with a heaving sigh as he lets his head fall back, glaring at the clouds overhead. " _Fine,"_ he hisses through gritted teeth.

Thatch is in awe. Not even Haruta can ever get them to cave is as quickly to his whims. What specials powers does this little imp possess, and just how much danger are his food stocks going to be in?

Luffy promptly drops the act and beams for all he's worth, hopping off the railing and lacing his fingers through Ace and Sabo's. Then all three are walking towards Thatch, keeping well out of the way of the crew as they make their way across the deck; a resigned scowl on one freckled face, a nervous frown marring the scarred blond, while Luffy's smile can blind a man.

Thatch straightens, meeting them halfway with a grin. "What's up, kiddos? Ready to go back to the cabin already?" he asks. It's expected, and he's not as disappointed as he thought he might be; god only knows how taxing it must feel to be surrounded by so many people for any length of time, given their experience. Some time to recharge might be for the best.

However, the older boys share a glance over Luffy's head. Sabo ducks his head down, while silver eyes narrow on Thatch as Ace regards the pirate carefully. "...no," he says.

It's a simple word, and yet it has Sabo bite his lip hard enough to break the skin, Luffy's fingers tightening around his brothers', his smile now a plastered, almost _forced_ thing.

Thatch is quick to understand why. It's the first time any of them have told them 'no'. And Ace is waiting for the pirate commander to snap, get indignant, even violent...

(All it does is break his heart, sets it aflame with the burning desire to sail to _that_ island and tear that wretched excuse of a king apart himself. Whitey Bay might've already beaten him to the punch.)

So he settles a hand on his hip instead, smiling wider. "Alrighty then," he says, carefully not reacting when Ace blinks hard, or when Sabo's shoulders go lax with a soft, relieved sigh passing through abused lips, or when Luffy's fingers unclench from his brothers hands. "What d'you pups feel like doin' instead?"

They all blink at him, perplexed. "Pups?" Ace parrots before he can stop himself, and clamps his mouth shut quickly, red blooming across freckled cheeks. Luffy giggles into Sabo's arm, and the blond follows Ace's example and turns a bright shade of puce. Oh, how Thatch _wishes_ for a camera, more so when the older two are quick to brush it (and their blushes) off. Would've surely made Izo's day, no doubt.

Ace shakes his head and meets Thatch's eyes again, resolute. "Luffy says...he's ready to explore the ship some more," he says, like Thatch is honestly supposed to believe that Luffy is the _only_ one who wants to go. "And we thought...we're wondering if you could take him – us. All of us. Together."

"Only if you want to, si – Mister Thatch," Sabo is quick to add and amend, dipping his head again. The hand in Luffy's twitches like he's going to slip it from his little brother's grip and force the boys' head down in kind. He doesn't, but it's a close thing. "We – we don't wish to burden you or take you away from your duties if it's at all inconvenient."

 _'Asking for things and telling me 'no' in one day?'_ Thatch thinks, fighting the stupidly proud grin threatening the corners of his mouth as he watches the boys shuffle under his gaze, expectant, hopeful and anxious alike. ' _These kids...they're a helluva lot stronger than we give them credit for.'_

"Of course, it's no trouble at all!" Thatch chimes, perhaps a tad too loud when Sabo flinches and Ace cringes. He has the grace to wince, apologetic, and then sweeps an arm across the crowded deck in an appropriately dramatic fashion. "Just say the word and I'll take you wherever you kids wanna go. Any questions you wanna ask, I'll do my best to answer. And don't worry about my duties; my job here today is to take care of you three 'till you're ready to go back below decks and rest. And hey," he leans in a little closer, grinning foxily as he cups a hand over his mouth, whispering, "maybe after lunch, I'll sneak you some more of those brownies. How's that sound?"

At this, Sabo allows the faintest of smiles to split his lips as he nods, eyes sparkling with new mirth and slight enthusiasm. Ace attempts to not look at all excited, but the spark in his silver eyes is there, perhaps not just for the promise of secret treats. Luffy, positively delighted, giggles again and slips from his brothers' hands to throw his thin arms around Thatch's waist, stunning the commander. It's the third time, and he's still not over it.

Thatch brings his arms around Luffy's tinier frame. And with great care, he rests one hand atop the boy's head, ruffling the soft mess of ebony, relief warm and fierce in his chest when Luffy doesn't flinch or whimper at his touch. If anything, it makes him all the happier as he tightens his grip around Thatch's middle. Looking down at the little one now burrowed against him, trust and gratitude in the endless brown eyes peeking up at him from the folds of his shirt, Thatch never wants to let him or any of them go, wants to give them the _world_ –

"Oh for crying out loud, who the hell made Thatch cry _this_ time?!" someone calls, exasperated.

 _"I'm not cryin'!"_ Thatch shouts back, doing exactly that. Laughter rises from the masses.

Ace and Sabo stare at the crying commander before trading a look. The blond shrugs a shoulder, smiling crookedly. Ace rolls his eyes and looks away, arms a stubborn cross over his chest. In the circle of Thatch's arms, Luffy keeps on giggling.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

The brats are back in the galley by the time lunch rolls around, having earned a rest after, apparently, touring half the ship. It's the first time Namur has seen them in the flesh, and honestly? He'd expected far worse.

They're damn thin, thinner than any humans their ages have any business being, and from what he knows of human growth rates they're pretty short, too; the tallest of the trio, Ace (a dusting of pale freckles, raven hair in waves framing hallowed cheeks and silver eyes that he _swears_ he's seen before,) barely comes up to Marco's chin when he should be at least three inches taller by now. Their eyes, focused only on their meal and each other, scantily hide the haunted gleam that so many who've shared their fate have, one that never truly leaves even years after liberation (if any are lucky enough to live that long).

It's bad, no denying that. He'd be a fool to think for a moment that a day of sailing with them has changed any of what they'd discussed only yesterday with Pops, what Whiskey had shared, pictures or otherwise. But it could be much worse. Namur is glad it isn't.

Perhaps Izo is partly to thank, as well as Thatch of course; the cross-dresser had them freshened up and clothed, like _people_ and not possessions, given them a room and privacy and a space to call theirs and theirs alone. Thatch feeds them constantly, ignoring Whiskey's strict guidance to a degree in order to keep them happy, satisfied. Namur _could_ and really _should_ tell the head nurse of this, but he won't, funny as the outcome might be. In a way, this is actually helping; spoiling them, showing them they're more than welcome to a little more than fair share. Treating them like _kids_ , showing they _care_.

Namur feels a smile tug at his lips, eyes flicking over to the three commanders who've been hovering over the young trio like mother hens (pun _absolutely_ intended). He looks at his fellow commanders, casts his eyes about the galley and finding yet more gazes, curious and fond alike all watching the boys as they eat, and he can't help but wonder, not for the first time and certainly not the last, just how in the world he could have possibly come across such a family of pirates.

(And how lucky these kids are that they boarded _this_ ship at the port that day.)

Then he feels eyes on him, and turns. He blinks.

The blond kid, with mismatched eyes and horrible burns marring his face, pale but no longer unhealthy, is staring at Namur from the corner of his eye, roaming over his inhuman frame, blue and grey gleaming with curiosity.

Such a look would ordinarily make the Fishman wary, even angry beyond sense of self. Looks like that from humans only ever mean one thing among his kind; a wholly prejudice thought but it sticks like glue regardless. But this boy...there's curiosity, yes, but the ugly greed is absent. Instead, there's _wonder,_ a sort of awe Namur hasn't seen since he first left Fishman Island to join Pops' crew.

(And this is the same kid, Namur recalls, who'll sooner keep his head down than risk any sort of eye contact with anyone, pirate or no. Is this...a _good_ thing, he supposes?)

The boys' eyes flick upwards just once, but long enough to meet Namur's gaze. Sabo gasps and quickly looks the other way, shoulders stiff, pink tinting the tips of his ears. His brothers notice and watch him oddly, one with his face stuffed with food and the other cocking a brow. The freckled lad leans in and whispers something to the blond, to which said blond rapidly shakes his head, hissing something back that sounds like a vehement denial. Ace rolls his eyes to the heavens, and for a moment Namur is reminded, quite suddenly, of Marco every time Thatch so much as opens his mouth. A big brother through and through, it seems.

Eventually, Sabo turns around again, teeth digging into the flesh off his bottom lip with great hesitancy. He gulps, hard, fingers clenching the fabric of his pants in a grip that threatens to turn his knuckles white.

 _'Ah,'_ Namur thinks, fighting a grin. ' _I get it now.'_

He quickly runs through what he's heard over the years about former slaves, what warnings Marco, Pops and Whiskey have issued out, how each might take the blunt, upfront approach their ilk are prone to taking; not all pirates are well regarded for subtlety like Izo, after all. They're not made of glass by any means, but the last thing Namur wants is to startle the kid into silence when it's clear the burning curiosity is _killing_ him.

(Normally, the questions he gets from humans all the time tire him, even annoy him. But for this kid...he can give him that much. He's already been deprived of so much in his short life, why deny him this?)

So he leans forward a little, an elbow perched on his knee. His smile is tight, close-lipped so his teeth aren't on full display (god knows _that'll_ help ease the kid's fraying nerves), but he hopes it's warm. "What's up, kid?" he asks, placid and casual, and it seems to do the trick; the nervous little guppy unclenches his fingers and lets go of his abused lip, shoulders loosening. "Never seen a Fishman before?"

Sabo hesitates a moment longer. "Um...n-no," he stammers, "I haven't, Mister...uh..."

Namur can't help it – he snorts, loudly. Sabo flinches, involuntarily, so Namur reels it in a little. "Kid, you don't have to call me 'Mister', or anybody else on this ship for that matter. We're not that formal." He extends a hand, grinning at the absolute marvel in the wide, young eyes of the human teen as he stares at the webbed appendage. "The name's Namur, bud. Good to finally meet you."

Sabo blinks rapidly, eyes flicking from his hand to Namur's face. The Fishman's patience is rewarded when slowly, the boy raises his hand and carefully clasps Namur's, a shy grin worming its way across his face. "...n-nice to meet you too, um...Namur," he says, shoulders hunching; a wholly innocent thing that has even this pirate's heart clench. "I'm...I'm Sabo."

Behind the blond, Ace and Luffy stare at their brother as though he's a being they've never seen before, eyes wide and jaws gaping. Namur can't blame them; this is another huge step, and the Fishman can't help but feel humbled for having even a small part to play. His grin widens, flashing a few teeth. There's no fear in Sabo's eyes at the gesture, only admiration and yet more of that endearing childlike wonder. It's almost cute. God, he sounds like Thatch.

"So," he says as he lets go of Sabo's hand first, letting the boy draw his hand back to his lap. "I take it you have a few questions for me." When Sabo nods, curls bouncing, pressing his lips hard to fight an eager grin, Namur huffs another laugh and waves him over, gesturing the empty bench beside him. "C'mon, join me. I'll tell you what I can, if you like."

Sabo's smile dips just a little, eyeing the empty seat and the pirate. Namur opts to wait (trying and failing not to feel like he's taming an animal. It's something they'll all struggle with, something Pops undoubtedly had to deal with way back. He can't push it, though. It'll only make it worse.)

Sabo casts a look at his brothers over his shoulder, a query in his eyes. Gone is the prior shock, and now Ace regards Namur firmly, looking him up and down with a frown that threatens retribution. Luffy swallows the massive lump of food in his swelling cheeks and _stares_ at Namur, long and hard, expressionless. Unnerving though it is, Namur stays put. He's been warned of this... _thing_ by Marco, though the meaning behind it slips his mind.

Eventually, Luffy's face breaks out into a smile as he lets out a giggle – one he's heard floating about the ship all damn day and melting collective hearts in its wake – and nods at Sabo encouragingly.

Seems like Luffy approves of him. Whatever the hell _that's_ supposed to mean.

Sabo seems to take this as an invitation to move, picking up his tray of half-eaten food and crossing the short distance to sit beside Namur, a noticeable gap between them. Hands on his lap, he looks up at the pirate through curling bangs, still unsure but quietly delighted, his crooked smile a timid but very real thing.

Namur hardly knows this guppy aside from what he's heard from his fellow commanders and his father, and yet pride swells in his chest something fierce. The boy certainly deserves a pat on the back for his bravery, his show of trust after a _day_ of sailing with them, but he keeps his hands on the table, for the blond's sake and his brothers watching them intently with varying degrees of warning and veritable curiosity.

(He decides to ignore the _other_ three sets of eyes from across the room, ones that have been shadowing the brats all day. But he feels their approval, their joy and pride, flowing off them in waves and spreading throughout the clamorous galley.)

"Alright," Namur says at last, "Sabo, right? What do you wanna ask me? I'm an open book."

Tension leaking out of him little by little, Sabo uncurls his spine completely, his smile broadening, a twinkle in the incompatible blue and grey. And then – "What's...what's it like on Fishman Island? Is it...as amazing as they say?"

Namur grins hard, already warming up to this timid but unbelievably brave slip of a kid. He'll be sad to see them all go, if it's what they truly want at the end of the six days they have left before Tundra. But for now –

"Hell yeah it is, kid," he replies, and basks in the glow of Sabo's excited grin.

(Somewhere behind Sabo, Namur hears a satisfied, thoroughly pleased snicker that sounds a lot like Luffy.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Just heard from Whitey Bay down in Navigation. Said they'll be comin' round within the next day or so, weather permitting."

Marco cranes his head to lift a brow at Curiel as the fellow commander approaches, frowning. "So soon? Thought it'd be at least another day before we crossed paths, yoi," he says. "We left Garnet Island two days ago, and Bay was at least another day out when we contacted her. How the hell did she manage to –?"

"Impact Dials," Curiel supplies, crossing his arms over his broad chest and casting his eyes over the crew, a smirk on his lips. "One of her crew let it slip how _pissed_ she was when Pops and Whiskey told her about the boys. Damn near wrecked her own cabin after hangin' up, then got her guys to haul ass to Garnet before sundown." The Tenth Division commander's smile is a truly wicked thing in the next instant as he chuckles. "Needless to say, I don't think King Serge will be a problem for the brats any more."

Grim though it is, the Kings' fate no doubt grimmer, Marco smiles back. The phoenix within him croons, satisfied. However – "What about the islanders, yoi?" he asks. "It's one thing to to take down the monarchy, but the people..."

"Unharmed, for the most part," Curiel says with a shrug that's hardly caring. "The Queen and the princess lived too, from what I heard. Apart from a few steals and one or two fires –"

" _Only_ one or two?"

"...okay, maybe seven fires – let's just say the island is still intact, and rebuilding is possible. Honestly, I'd say they got off easy."

 _'Too true,'_ an ugly part of Marco can't help but think. The deed is done, however, and any more will be a step too far, even for pirates; the boys are under their protection, yes, but not one of Pop's children. This is enough, for now. More than enough, should they ever decide to tell the boys that a link in their chains has been broken.

An utterly excited bark followed by the unmistakable chime of laughter over the early evening winds sweeping over the deck and the usual ruckus of the crew brings the first mate back to the present and lifts his lips in a smile. Curiel responds likewise, grinning as he peers over the heads of crew-mates.

"Sounds like someone's having fun," he notes. Marco chuckles in reply and nods, unable to suppress the grin. Not that he could, or would ever want to, in the face of such innocence.

The occasional bark, loud and lively despite the age of its owner, breaks through the din of chatter as Stefan bounds about the deck, tailed by an ecstatic Luffy and an indulgent Sabo in a game of what Marco can only assume is tag. The old dog had taken an instant liking to the young trio, tripping over his own four legs to reach them the minute he stepped out of his den below decks, all but pouncing on Luffy and smothering him with slobbery kisses and nuzzles, eager as always to make new friends. The sentiment quickly spread to his flabbergasted older brothers, both sent careening to the deck under the weight of the old hound with no hope of escape.

(It's the first time Marco has heard Ace laugh at all, however involuntarily. It was a sweet sight, though short-lived.)

Now, the senior war-hound plays with his new human pups, barking and chasing them with all the vigor of a dog half his age. Luffy's laughter rings like wind chimes in a spring breeze, innocence and joy unbridled; Sabo's delighted snickers are a breath of fresh air as he takes Stefan's face between his hands and gives his fuzzy brow a grinning kiss.

The sight they make, even the broody form of Ace leaning against the railing as he watches his brothers play, is utterly heart-warming and so _normal,_ it's amazing. Their willingness to expose themselves to the pirate masses, to eat among total strangers is nothing short of miraculous, and earlier, when Sabo had courageously left the safety of his brothers to join Namur, to _ask questions..._

When he'd told Pops, the old man was delighted. Damn near called for a banquet on the young blond's behalf.

Looking at them now, a far cry from the wary creatures they'd been courting only a day prior, you couldn't tell they've been through hell and back.

But Marco knows better. Sad though it is, the picture they're painting isn't quite as it seems.

Luffy, while laughing uproariously and allowing himself to be pinned under Stefan and attacked with yet more kisses, he's still not speaking, not verbally. And every once in a while he'll pause, look around at the crew giving them a wide berth, gauge their lingering eyes for a moment, and then carry on like nothing is amiss. Sabo quietly cautions the littlest not to stray too far from the spot they've declared by the railing nearest to the door leading below deck, and keeps looking over his shoulder as though expecting a glaring shadow of a man to be there, hanging over him and his brother with a hand raised to strike them down to their knees.

And Ace, as always, is standing guard. Keeping his brothers in his sights, mindful of every man or woman crossing their path; no need to stand so close when a simple plume of flames will be more than enough to put a stop to any danger. (A concern, as Thatch had brought to his attention during the lunch rush, but not one they can't deal with should they ever have to. Marco dearly hopes they don't.)

Even so, there's no fear in the air. There's no ire or an ounce of hatred, not in the midst of Luffy's laughter, Sabo's cheer, or even the barest, indulgent smile on Ace's lips when Luffy glances his way. They stand in view of the crew, the wind tussling their hair, the song of the waves rocking the ship a soothing ambience as the sun begins to set, declaring the end of another day.

 _'They're getting better,'_ Marco thinks, pride welling up within him. And maybe...if this streak continues, if whatever it is that's getting them to lower their hackles, to open up even slightly and _believe..._ they might even stay. It's early days yet to even assume anything of the sort, but Marco can hope. It's what got him this far, after all.

"I know that look, Marco," Curiel says, jarring Marco from his musings as he cranes his neck to look up at the smirking man. "You want the brats to stay."

Marco feels a grin but shrugs, shaking his head. "What makes you say that? I didn't say anything, yoi," he says, feigning innocence.

Curiel laughs from the belly, attracting attention from passing siblings and two of the boys (one of them too busy giggling under Stefan to care). "Shut the hell up," he smacks a hand heartily on Marco's back. Marco doesn't budge an inch. "You're more like Pops than I think you realize, bud. Can't say I blame you, though. They're a real treat, those boys." His grin softens, a rare thing on such a brash, trigger-happy man as he looks back up at the boys, ignoring the commanders now and attempting to get Stefan off Luffy so the boy can breathe. "Bet they'll grow into somethin' amazin'. Once they're...y'know."

Marco does know, better than most. And he knows it'll be something to look forward to. These boys are strong, and so very brave; they will make something of themselves, something _incredible_. He can _feel_ it.

And then something shifts.

It's slow at first, a slight pinch in the back of Marco's brain, but enough to give him pause, brows furrowing. Curiel grows still, the hand on his back stiff. They trade a slow glance, the eyes behind the taller commander's shades clouded with uncertainty, caution. He feels it, too.

The sudden buzz in the air, a _zap..._ not unlike the sensation Marco felt when Pops had discovered the brats yesterday morning. Across the deck, Marco catches the other few commanders pause in their tracks, brows furrowed, staring into space with odd looks, all asking the same question; what, and why, and where?

"Luffy? Luffy, you okay?"

Sabo's quiet query lures the two commanders back to the boys; he and Ace have successfully managed to get Stefan off of Luffy, but the boy is frozen where he sits on the deck, locked in place by an unseen force. His eyes are wide, indecipherable, staring at a fixed spot across the deck, lips slightly parted. His fingers press hard against the Adam's wood floors, turning white from the strain. Stefan whines, nosing Luffy's cheek, sniffing and licking his hair for attention. Luffy doesn't budge an inch. Doesn't blink, barely breathes.

There's a pressure building in the air. It's vaguely reminiscent to what Ace had been exerting back in Navigation, minus the sweltering hatred. More than just commanders are taking notice now, a few conversations falling flat as heads rise, eyes narrowing in confusion. His inner phoenix shifts restlessly, wonders _what is going on –?_

"Luffy, look at me," Ace says, soft but commanding, kneeling beside Luffy and grasping his slim shoulders. He ducks his head to seek Luffy's gaze, worry already setting in within silver eyes to match Sabo's growing nervousness. "Lu, say something, what's wrong?"

Luffy ignores him, easily slipping from Ace's loose grip and rising slowly to his feet, one hand on the rail behind him to steady himself. His eyes never leave the spot across the deck. The pressure increases by a hair, and Marco understands with startling clarity –

 _It's coming from Luffy._

Such a strong aura, from one so young and small, and yet Marco can't quite read it like he could Ace's; the emotions are a mass of disorder, no one feeling lingering long enough to name, and it's agitating, almost. Marco can't tell whether he needs to be on his guard, if he should run or if he should be protecting the brats. From _what_ , he has no idea, but there's something _wrong_ but there _isn't_ –

A laugh drifts from one corner of the deck, one of the conversations proceeding without hindrance, deaf to the mounting pressure in the air.

" _Zehahahaha!_ They really did that, did they? Crazy bastards! But that's what happens when ya mess with the Whitebeard pirates, right?" Another chorus of laughter and hearty agreements follow.

Marco follows the voice and quickly finds its owner; Marshall D. Teach of Second Division, surrounded by a group of shipmates gossiping over something or other. He and Marco aren't exactly close, but they get along well enough, and Teach is a pleasant guy to be around. Another member of their family, with an odd love of cherry pies and an eye for blades and devil fruits.

It's only when Teach pauses mid-sentence and turns his head that Marco realizes...Luffy's eyes are fixed on _him._

Teach and Luffy's gazes meet across the deck, befuddled on one end and hyper-focused on the other. Teach's group carries on with their gabfest without him. Ace and Sabo continue to try and rouse Luffy from his trance. Stefan whines some more. Luffy keeps on staring.

Then Teach smiles.

Luffy goes _white,_ the Adam's wood railing _crunching_ under his hand _–_

 ** _ZZZAP!_**

And the pressure is set loose like a copper spring, shooting across the deck.

A chorus of startled yelps and curses rise from the masses as shivers run down spines and hairs stand on end. Stefan whines, sneezing hard and pawing at his nose. Marco inwardly reels, a tightness in his chest, eyes blown wide because he _knows_ what that was, what Luffy just did –

 _Haki...?_

All but the commanders dissolve into bewildered laughter and teasing – "Dude, look at your _hair!_ Looks like a freakin' mohawk –" "What the hell was that –?" "You guys feel that 'zap' just now –?" – and Marco only has time to share a glance with an equally startled Curiel before Sabo and Ace's distressed calls pull him back to the boys; Luffy is tripping over himself, sandals sliding against the slick wood of the deck in his mad haste to get away, pushing his way past confounded pirates to get to the door leading below decks, panting hard and fast. He throws it open with a crack against the wall and disappears.

Marco's heart sinks with cold dread. Luffy's face...he's _terrified._

"Luffy, wait – come back, Lu!" Sabo immediately pounds after the boy, ignoring the eyes on him as he too vanishes through the door. Ace pauses just long enough to shoot Marco a look – confused, somewhat dazed but no less angry, incredulous, _betrayed –_ before chasing after his younger brothers.

Marco blinks, brings up a hand to rub at his throbbing temples as the pressure slowly dwindles into nothingness.

 _What the hell just happened?_

"What the hell just happened?" Curiel mutters, echoing Marco's thoughts exactly, staring after the boys with wide eyes. He blinks, hard, almost shakes himself before meeting Marco's half-lidded gaze. Behind the red-tinted shades, the man's eyes are electrified. "Did...did _Luffy_ just...?"

Marco sighs, dropping his hand back to his side. "I think so, yoi," he admits. "Luffy...apparently has incredibly strong Haki..."

Curiel huffs, an attempt to hide the former quiver of his tone. "That's putting it mildly," he grouses. "And that was just a ' _zap'..."_

Marco agrees, nodding grimly as he watches his fellow commanders trade glances, some wide-eyed, the majority confused as hell even as the light-hearted chatter among the rest of the crew continues. A 'zap' indeed, strong enough to set a few of their strongest on edge, to send shivers down spines and have one's hair stand on end, like an electric pulse, but not nearly enough to put anyone out. Not like Pops can.

But it's not anger Marco felt emanating off the little boy in that moment, nor was it when Marco caught his expression mere seconds before he'd turned tail and bolted, when he'd looked at Teach and _crushed_ the railing with one, paling hand...that was _fear._

Looking at the heavyset man now, bewildered as the commanders as he scratches the back of his head, shrugging to himself, the first mate can't fathom _why..._

 _What the_ hell _just happened?_

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**

 *** - brownie points for any Final Fantasy fans who get this reference ;3**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N~ Yoooo! Wow, okay, I'll be honest with you guys. I was SO SCARED of what responses I'd get for the last chapter, and I thank GLOB y'all weren't as disappointed as I thought you'd be. Granted, I've made peace with the fact that I can't please everyone, but still XD Your responses made me SO HAPPY and motivated! Also, to those who reviewed in different languages, 1) Your English is PERFECT, 2) I wish I could accurately respond to you in your native tongue without the use of google translate, I've heard that's...really bad DX XD but thank you SO MUCH to all who reviewed.**

 **A few special mentions:**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - I love them too, and thank you so much for reading! Sleep is important tho! Take care of yourself first :)**

 **Anna - Luffy will be fine dear...for now :)**

 **MzShellSan - Thank you so much! Also...ehehehe :)**

 **Fancyunicorn - *blushes and faints* cheers my dear!**

 **TheMaskedDuck94 - \gfghshafhfhafdsf! Thanks! Also, if mister ssesomething33 is me, I'm actually a woman XD Thanks tho XD**

 **Wordlet - Aye, more plot be a stirrin' on the horizon, matey! I try to update when I can, because I love what I write even if it means losing sleep a little XD Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint :3**

 **CanIHaveAHug - Teach needs to go DOWN...but he's a crafty bastard. He ain't going down easy. Who knows? he might be able to find a way around this...**

 **Sorry if I couldn't respond to everyone, but here's chapter 12! Shorter compared to the last one, but the next one has MUCH more content, I promise. One last thing, I LOVE writing Whitebeard. He's such a _dad,_ I love him!**

 **I OWN NOTHING!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

Tracking Luffy down doesn't take long. Either he'd forgotten the way back to their cabin or his legs simply couldn't carry him any more, for they turn the first corner and find him sitting in the hall, back pressed against the wall as though attempting to disappear into the wood. His arms wrap tightly around his legs as he hugs his knees to his chest, wide eyes staring, unseeing, at the opposite wall. His breaths are shallow as he shivers in place.

He looks like death, pale in the face and so terribly _scared –_ it tears Ace's heart in two.

He'd been so _happy_ before, grinning at passing strangers, laughing and playing with the oversized mutt and Sabo, carefree as the untamed whirlwind he used to be. Then... _this_ happens, and it's as though he's been reset; thrown back in time to the frightened, browbeaten, helpless little boy _they'd_ made him into, seastone and all.

Because of someone on the deck.

Someone Luffy had seen, on Whitebeard's crew – the very same crew Luffy had said with the utmost confidence were ' _good_ ' – had reduced to Ace's baby brother to the shivering mess he is. They'd done _this_ to _Luffy._

The elder grits his teeth against a snarl, fists clenching at his sides just shy of bursting into flames.

 _'I knew it.'_

Sabo falls to Luffy's side in the next instant, pausing just short of reaching out to touch the trembling boy's shoulders. He bites his lip, worry in his twitching hands and furrowed brows. Yet despite this – "Lu," he says, his voice soft and comforting as ever, the closest thing Ace has to compare to a doting mother's gentle tone. "Can you hear me, little brother?"

Luffy blinks, just once, but it's enough. His eyes shift from the wall to meet Sabo's, and he gives the barest of nods. Smiling, Sabo nods back. "Good. Is it okay if I touch you?" he asks. Another nod – _hesitant_ – and then Sabo is carefully folding Luffy into his arms, pulling him to his chest. One hand comes up to card through raven tresses, the other rubbing soothing circles along Luffy's ridged spine; he doesn't stop shaking, so Sabo holds him closer, pressing his cheek against Luffy's head. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asks.

Luffy sniffs, dry-eyed. He burrows deeper into Sabo's chest and shakes his head.

Discoloured eyes flick up once to meet Ace's as Sabo lifts his head – they're cold as ice, a severe contrast to the warmth of his embrace, the promise wrathful retribution gleaming within. Sabo is rarely like this, only when his brothers are involved, and even then such fervid ire had been suppressed in the face of their captors, retaliation of any sort met with even worse punishments. It's not something Ace _wants_ to see, not on the face of his younger twin, the one who'll whisper lullabies to a crying Luffy after a nightmare (living or imagined) and offer a witty quip to make Ace crack a smile, keep him from hurting himself on their worst days.

But this time, it's reassuring; the two brothers are in perfect accord. Those pirates better have a _damn_ good explanation for this.

Footsteps, swift and heavy, echo from where they came. Someone's coming – a familiar wave of their aura flowing into the hallway tells Ace exactly who it is, and he turns on his heel and squares his shoulders, eyes ablaze. "Take Luffy and go," he says. Sabo won't argue, he knows, not this time, and a sick part of him is grateful for his acquiescence as the blond scoops Luffy into a bridal carry and hurries down the hall without pause.

They vanish around the corner just as Marco skids to a halt before Ace, panting. The man looks disheveled, eyes wider than normal as he looks Ace up and down and then past the teen, where his little brothers have already fled. "Ace –"

A plume of fire wraps around Ace's clenched fist, hot and fierce, glowing in the dark of the hall. Light and shadow dance across the teens' features, the lines of his frown and the glint in his silver eyes all the more daunting as he glares at the commander, all but daring him to take step closer. The man takes a step back instead, eyeing the flames barely licking against the wall and then their owner.

Ace carefully doesn't say anything, lips taut in a firm sneer, but a part of him wants to laugh. If they thought he wouldn't take advantage of this newfound freedom, no shackles to keep his flames at bay, they were dead wrong.

A few days ago, this wouldn't even cross his mind; his brothers lives hanging by a rope over his head tauntingly, the Kings' threats the song they – and he – were forced to dance to (...and Mei, he reminds himself), had kept his fire mostly tamed. But now, even in the presence of a pirate, a feared figure in the New World aboard the very ship of _that bastard's_ greatest rival, his fire heeds all too easily to his call.

And he'll surely need them, now that he'd made the first move. Marco has no reason to hesitate, no reason to hod back or keep _pretending._

(He knows, deep down, he can't fight Marco and hope to win, not now; his abysmal strength compared to the commander's is laughable, and that's not counting whatever...abilities the older man might have, be it brute strength or a devil fruit of something of that ilk. But he can at least distract the pirate long enough to get Sabo and Luffy to the lifeboats – thanks to Thatch, he knows where they are – and get the hell off this ship if they have to. If they _can._ )

Blue eyes sharp – oddly sorrowful, aching, remorseful _what –_ lambent in the flickering reds and oranges of Ace's blistering flames, Marco doesn't move. Doesn't speak, not even to defend himself or tell Ace to "calm down." And when Ace shifts, taking an experimental step backwards, a flaming fist between them, Marco still doesn't budge an inch.

The look in his eyes is...sincere. Almost has Ace entertain the idea of pulling back his flames. He doesn't, not until he's at the other side of the hall, far away from Marco. He casts a final glare at the commander before spinning on his heel and taking off after Sabo and Luffy, the flames fizzling out. Marco doesn't follow.

Ace doesn't stop running until he's reached their cabin, all but slamming the door shut behind him and bolting it – yes, their room can be locked from the inside, freaking _idiots._ Only then does he let himself relax, sweaty forehead pressing against the cool wood as he heaves a sigh. God, that was close, too close. Had Marco not hesitated, he absolutely would've died, fire be damned.

(But Marco didn't hesitate. He...didn't do _anything_. Even when he had the right, the perfect opportunity...)

Ace shakes his head and the thoughts away with it, turning instead to where his little brothers huddle on the bed. Luffy is once more nestled against Sabo's chest, legs thrown across the blond's lap and lanky arms locked around his waist in an iron grip contrary to his rubbery nature, fingers clenching the back of Sabo's shirt in a white-knuckled grip. Sabo tucks Luffy's head under his chin and gently rocks them back and forth, humming a familiar tune into the smaller boys' hair; it's the one about 'father time and mother earth', Ace recalls. He's never told them where he'd learned it from, but it never fails to console Luffy during the nights, when sleep seems impossible (more so in the dank, hauntingly dark walls of their cell.)

The humming stops, however, when Sabo lifts his head to meet Ace's lingering gaze across the room. The glacial wrath is gone, mild relief taking its place; "Perfect timing," he says in lieu of a greeting, like he'd never doubted Ace's return for a moment. Liar.

He beckons Ace forward with a tilt of his chin. Ace moves swiftly and clambers onto the bed, shuffling until he's facing Luffy – or rather his back, the boys' face is still buried into Sabo's neck. Said blond shrugs the other shoulder, his smile awry. "Won't let go of me, but at least he's not catatonic," he says with a chuckle that falls flat, a failed but valiant attempt to lighten the mood.

Ace reaches out and lays a hand on Luffy's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He's not shaking anymore, always a good sign. "Has he said anything?" Ace asks. At Sabo's look, dry enough to rival the desert of Alabasta, he barks an impatient, "You know what I mean!" It makes Luffy giggle a little, though, so his cheeky bastard of a younger twin gets off easy.

Eventually, said twin looks down at the mane of black below his chin, lips twisting in a sort of grimace that doesn't bode well. He sighs. "...no, not yet. I only just got him to calm down. Maybe now that you're here, though..." He nudges Luffy's head with his chin, and Luffy slowly lifts his face – still pale, but his eyes are dry – from the crook of Sabo's throat. Baby browns blink owlishly at the older pair, bright and clear.

Ace offers a smile, releasing Luffy's shoulder. "Feelin' better, kiddo?" he asks. Luffy shuffles off Sabo's lap to sit between them on the bed, lanky legs crossed. He takes a breath a shakes himself, as though physically throwing off a heavy burden too great even for his shoulders. And then he nods once, smiling; a far cry from its usual vibrancy, but it's there and real, and spades better than the sheer terror of moments ago.

Ace grins in relief, running a hand through Luffy's hair and grinning wider when the pre-teen automatically leans into the touch like a kitten. "That's good," he says, and keeps the hand in his hair when he leans forward to press his forehead against Luffy's briefly, feeling the boy relax against him. The grin slips, as does Luffy's in the next instant when the older teen eventually sits back again and asks, "Can you tell us what happened up there? What made you...freak out so bad?"

('Freak out' is putting it mildly. He'd be a fool, blind in all senses, to not have felt that _zap_ of power surging through the air – the crack of splintering _wood_ under his hand – before Luffy had bolted. It was...familiar. Like something exploding from the very soul that made you want to _kneel._ That had come from his _baby brother,_ and he wants to know why. The 'how' can come later.)

Luffy looks down at his hands, fingers twiddling on his lap, as Ace removes his from his hair. Lips purse and twist, brows wrinkling as he searches for the words. Ace sits back against the headboard and waits. Sabo shuffles closer to Luffy until their knees touch, head tilting so that gold curls fall across the scar. A moment passes, and then Luffy takes a deep breath, lifting his head and arms.

'There was a man on deck,' he signs slowly, like he's still trying to find the right words. 'A big guy, with missing teeth and curly black hair. I don't know why I noticed him when I did, but...I felt something. Something...bad.'

He meets their gazes, and there's shame in his eyes and the shape his deepening frown. 'I panicked...and I ran away. It was all going good and then I messed everything up because I got scared. I'm sorry –'

"No, Luffy, no," Sabo hushes gently, throwing an arm around the boy and bringing him close, his thumb rubbing his shoulder. Luffy automatically leans into him. "None of that was your fault. Don't apologize for being scared. It's okay. You didn't ruin anything, Luffy, trust me..."

Sabo draws back a fraction, his smile soft, considering. "In fact...today really wasn't all that bad," he admits. When Ace quirks a brow at him, he chuckles, tucking a stubborn curly lock behind his ear. "I mean, aside from what happened a few minutes ago...I...actually _enjoyed_ today. We got to see the ship, watch everyone put up those weird decorations...I even talked to a _Fishman_ , and he answered all my questions – Hm?"

He pauses when Luffy pats his arm twice, grinning now. 'Thatch gave us yummy brownies, too' he signs eagerly and licks his lips, already drooling at the very thought of such delicious treats (then again, what else is new?) 'And then the big dog came and we played. He gave me so many gross kisses,' he adds with a giggle, one Sabo echoes. Ace watches them and feels a smirk tug at his lips at the memory, making a note to send Luffy to wash up as soon as possible to get rid of the dog smell if nothing else.

And really, Sabo's right. The day as a whole has been fine, absolutely fine. Ace might even say it was...nice, _fun_ even, when the dog joined in. The whole time they'd been on deck or in the galley or even in the underbelly of the ship where crewmen were counting stock and repairing rusty pipes, Luffy hadn't found fault in anybody they'd crossed on their travels. The crew still gave them looks, but none were condescending, spiteful; merely curious, one might even say friendly, and they kept their distance.

And Sabo...god, he'd actually _talked_ to someone. He'd had real, casual conversation, with a pirate no less. Ace can barely remember the last time he'd seen his little brother smile like that, like the whole world and it's deepest secrets was beheld to him as the Fishman spoke of the history and spun tales of his homeland far beneath the sea. It was amazing to watch, wonderful and crazy, as Sabo's confidence returned little by little – and it was all thanks to a Whitebeard pirate.

And yet out of all them, _one_ was all it took to freak the hell out of Luffy, scare him bad enough that he'd ran away, shaking...

A small hand curls around Ace's wrist and tugs twice. Ace looks up, and Luffy's watching him without a trace of his or Sabo's prior mirth. He lets go of Ace and raises his hands. 'Does this mean we have to leave?' he asks. 'You said if we find any bad eggs that we have to get off at the next island.'

Ace regards Luffy for a moment, silent; the boy looks doleful as he lets his hands flop uselessly onto his lap, remorseful as before. Shoulders drooping, Sabo bites his lip and looks away, reluctance and a twinge of disappointment in his mismatched eyes that startles Ace and yet doesn't.

Ace stares at his lap and _thinks_.

 _What's...the_ right _thing to do here?_

When Sabo first came into Ace's life, a tiny, smartly dressed if not raggedy five-year-old stumbling over his own feet in the jungles of Goa, the blond had deferred to Ace somewhat, allowing him to lead and instruct – until they got older, and Sabo decided he'd be a smart-ass who loved to talk back, and that was before they discovered the age difference. Then Luffy had thrust himself into their lives with all the grace of a hurricane, disrupting their order of things, and never left. Being the youngest of the trio, Luffy naturally fell under both their leadership (when he could be bothered to and not wander off to do his own thing like the half-wit he is), and suddenly Ace had two younger brothers looking to him for instruction, guidance.

They looked to him when scavenging the junk yards for scraps and running from their crazy Grandfather as brats, and they look to him now, waiting.

Ace hesitates, bites his lip. In times like these, he knows they'll follow him no matter what he says, no matter their own feelings on the matter. And the sane part of him wants to tell Luffy 'yes of course we're leaving, if not right this second'.

But...after today, all he's seen, all he's heard...

 _'Knock, knock'._

The boys stiffen on instinct, whipping around to stare at the door. Ace feels his heart plummet. Dammit, is it Marco? Has he changed his mind and come to –?

"You kids okay in there?" the muffled voice behind the door asks. Despite himself, Ace relaxes a little – it's Thatch. One quick sweep with that _other_ sense tells him the man is well and truly alone, unlike yesterday. He sounds uncertain, almost guilty. "Listen, I know you've locked the door and all, but...is it alright if I come in? I swear I'll leave if you want me to, but...please?"

Ace wants to tell him exactly where to go, not about to fall for any sort of trick, not again, not _ever_ again. But after yesterday, and today, and everything in between that they've seen and come to know of Thatch...and the man sounds so genuinely _sorry_ that it tugs at Ace's heart a bit, more than he wants to admit even as he pulls a face. He trades a quick glance with Sabo, and the blond seems to battle with his own feelings as he presses his lips together; SRHLC returning with a vengeance, and it's almost funny. Almost.

This could be a trap. This could be their way of _bribing_ them into submission, like dogs on leashes. It's already taking effect, be it the case. But...but...

 _What's the right thing to do here? What's the_ safe _thing to do...?_

They both look down at Luffy – to no one's surprise, Luffy immediately nods his head; he's come to trust the commander wholly, and not simply because he's fed them, so of _course_ they should let him in. Luffy Logic at its finest.

Despite himself, Ace finds he can neither agree nor disagree with this, and instead heaves a sigh that he's sure can be heard from the other side of the door as he shuffles off the bed and stands. Approaching the door, he slowly unhinges the lock and grasps the knob with one hand. He puts the other hand behind his back, allowing heat to build in the clenched fist as he twists the knob and slowly pulls the door open.

What he sees is not at all what he expects, and his scowl vanishes the minute Thatch's grinning face comes into view. The pompadoured commander beholds a plate of fresh brownies that smell _incredible_ before Ace like a present, a bright pink apron tied around his waist and matching oven mittens on his hands to protect his skin from the steaming plate.

Ace blinks. _What in the...?_

"Hey, kiddo!" he chimes, all sunshine and goodwill that already has Ace's teeth rotting second-hand from the sweetness. "Heard about what happened on deck, so I came down to see if you're all doing okay. I even snuck these for ya, as promised!" He takes half a step closer, presenting the chocolatey treats. "The plate's still hot, so...if you'll let me, I'll just leave them on the bed for ya and I'll leave, give you guys some time to yourself. Is that alright?"

Ace stares at him, arms falling limp to his sides, eyes wide. The get-up, with the mittens and the apron and the brownies...he looks like a doting mother coming to check on her kids after a long hard day out in the world. It's almost funny – hell, it _is_ funny, but as it is Ace is far too stunned to laugh.

And he...he _cares._ There's no trace of malevolence, no undertone of deceit or any loathsome thing in the shape of his smile or the shine in his dark eyes. He's...he's still genuine. And he's _sorry,_ for something he wasn't even there to see for himself, sneaking them goodies...

Blinking owlishly, Ace turns to Sabo and Luffy watching the exchange from the bed. He blinks once, twice, three times. "Well, damn," he says. It's all he _can_ say.

His little brothers burst out laughing, falling over on the mattress as they hug their aching guts. They sound far too relieved for Ace's liking, for all the bull they've had to put up with in the last few minutes alone...but again, Ace can't say he blames them. It'd make him a hypocrite, no matter what he might say to convince them otherwise.

He rolls his eyes, his resolve starting to crack in the face of such domestic ludicrousness. Inside, however...

Thatch, still holding the brownies as he stands in the hallway, is left to watch, confused as hell but saying nothing. Instead he grins, and Ace's resolve cracks that little bit more as he steps aside, letting the commander into the room. Luffy's already halfway off the bed to tackle the man with another hug the moment the brownies are safely out of the way. Sabo leans back on the bed and watches, smiling. Ace hangs by the door, arms crossed over his chest.

… _one more chance, Whitebeards. One more chance._

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

It's the early hours of the night, right after the dinner rush in fact, when Marco finally comes to see him in his cabin, his tired eyes aglow in the lantern light at Edward's beside. The older pirate takes pity on the poor sod as he takes a seat on the bed at Edward's invitation (not that he ever really needs one, but old habits die hard.) Without having to ask, his first mate delves into the tales of today, what the three little scamps they've taken in have been up to with Thatch, Izo and Marco as their self-proclaimed 'guardians'...and what had happened only a few hours earlier on deck.

An old man he may be, but he'd have to be truly senile not have felt Luffy's burst of Haki from across the ship. _Conquerors'_ Haki no less.

He can't say he's that surprised, really; he'd had a taste of the littlest one's power in their first encounter, in this very room no less. But that had been minuscule compared to what the boy had let loose just this afternoon, spreading all across the Moby Dick like a surge of electricity. Not enough to render any of his children unconscious, thankfully, but it was a hairsbreadth away from sending someone to their knees with the sudden surge of _fear_ in the air.

Needless to say, the boy is stronger than his appearance may lead one to believe, that much is certain. Almost as strong as Ace. If this trend continues, perhaps even Sabo may display some surprises in the near future. The old pirate can't help but grin to himself at the prospect.

 _'These boys are truly something special.'_

"What are you grinning about _now_ , yoi?" Marco grouses below. Edward looks down to meet the tired, long-suffering glare his eldest gives him, and he chuckles heartily.

"What? Can't an old man marvel at the incredible progress of the youth of today?" he jokes. Marco rolls his eyes with a sigh and a muttered oath as he rubs his temples. Edward grins wide under his mustache, shaking his head as he leans back against the headboard, eyes on the ceiling. "I swear, nowadays it seems this new world is throwing out powerhouses straight out of the womb, doing whatever it takes to weed us old-timers out as quickly as possible."

"Don't say that," Marco looks up at him, a wry smirk on his face that belies the twinge of irritation the old man can feel emanating from the younger man, the same irritation that spikes every time Edward brings up the subject of his passing in one way or another. Touching, and yet ignorant, and they both know it. Still, his son continues – "Pretty sure you'll still be around to put the rowdier ones in their place, yoi." Marco pauses, considering, and then he shrugs, feigning innocence. "Or adopt them, knowing you."

And Edward can't argue with that in the slightest, conceding with a shrug of his giant shoulders. He _does_ have a habit of taking in some of the biggest troublemakers on these seas, no matter how rough their edges or short their tempers. Speaking of which – "How are our newest troublemakers doing now?" he asks, a swift change of subject but a needed one. "An outburst like that, I expected they'd stay hunkered in their cabin for the rest of the day."

"Thatch went to go check up on them earlier. Said they're fine, even accepted his 'apology brownies'," Marco chuckles. The smile slowly dies, however, at his next words as he presses his fingers to his forehead again, ever the tired first mate with far too much to deal with. "Luffy seems to be doing better after...whatever the hell that was, yoi. I seriously can't wrap my head around what could've triggered Luffy's Haki like that. Except..."

Marco trails off. Edward raises a brow, tilting his head. "Except?" he prompts expectantly.

Marco seems to debate with himself for a moment before relenting with another sigh. "While they were playing with Stefan, Luffy just kind of... _froze_ and looked straight at Teach," he says, leaning back on the bed with his hands, staring at the door. "When Teach turned around and smiled at him, Luffy...well, I think you know the rest, yoi. I didn't want to accuse one of my brothers of intentionally scaring the kids, but I still asked him about it while Thatch whipped up his treats in the kitchen."

Edward leans forward slightly. "And what did he say?"

Marco's smirk returns, and it's oddly relieved. "The man told me, and these are his exact words mind you, that he knew he was a disgusting blighter but had no idea his smile was _that_ scary."

Edward can't help it; he throws his head back and laughs, Marco giving in soon after though attempting to smother it behind a hand. There's nothing wrong with Teach's appearance, per say, though one can understand why it might frighten a few children. The fact that he's a pirate does little to help, but who is the old captain to judge? After all, it's a wonder the boys hadn't fainted on the spot simply looking at Edward's giant form – well, they _did_ scream, but that's a minor thing compared to other reactions he's gotten due to his size alone.

Once their mirth simmers, Marco rests his elbows on his knees and sighs. "In all seriousness, though, no one's really sure what happened up there or why. Maybe they're still getting used to the idea of sailing with a crew of pirates, yoi. Little things might still scare them every now and again."

He doesn't sound quite as convinced as his words might suggest, and Edward can see why. The entire day, all he's heard of the brats is positive news; Namur indulging Sabo's curiosity, Luffy easily melting the collective hearts of anyone making eye-contact, and Ace...well, he's not going for anyone's fingers or faces, which is an excellent achievement in Edward's book.

A day surrounded by pirates of various sizes, strengths, personalities, and yet _one_ man out of all of them sets Luffy off so dramatically over nothing more than a smile...

The old pirate casts his gaze from his son to the porthole at his door. Dusk has already settled across the sky, and soon the sun will vanish, bringing an end to another eventful day.

He hums to himself as he watches the last few rays of light dwindle into the calm of the sea. The last thing Edward Newgate desires is to accuse his children of any sort of foul intent aboard his ship, especially towards three young boys who've already been through far too much in their short lives. And they _are_ pirates, and imperfect humans to boot; such a combination is bound to bring about difficult confrontations. Even so...

"It seems that we've let ourselves get carried away with our hopes and expectations," Edward muses aloud. Marco shifts beside him, giving him his full attention. "They're stronger than they seem, but that doesn't detract from the fact that they've been through unimaginable hell and suffering, and trauma isn't something so easily decipherable. A number of things could have triggered Luffy's Haki, and there's nothing to say he, or his brothers, won't have a similar reaction to any other member of our family in the near future."

Marco hums in agreement, a pensive look about him, and for a moment Edward wonders why the hell he's explaining any of this to Marco when he, of all people, already _knows_. "So what are you suggesting, yoi?" he asks after a brief silence. "Back off?"

Edward chuckles again. "To be blunt, yes, but only for now. We've exposed them to more than enough as it is, perhaps even rushed them in our own excitement at their unexpected progress. Let's give them time to catch up, breathing room, away from the crew if they so choose." At Marco's slight frown, one that holds a shred of disappointment, Edward raises a giant hand to rest against the smaller man's back. "I know what you're thinking, son. It may seem like we're back to square one...but they're stronger than we've given them due credit for. They'll rise above this, in their own time. We must give that to them, as I've said, and be patient."

His eldest sighs, patting one giant finger in acknowledgement before Edward removes his hand. "I know, Pops," Marco says, not looking at his captain, instead finding the loose threads of the bed-sheets more interesting. "Still. Hope what happened today isn't a deal-breaker, yoi."

"Now, Marco," Edward admonishes lightly with a frown, and the brat has the grace to wince at his unintentional slip-up. "Whether they stay or leave is their decision and theirs alone in the end, regardless of their reasons. I won't tolerate 'bribing' or persuasion of any kind, no matter how much we'd love to have them aboard a little longer, or even join."

At that, Marco cuts him a dry look. "Who the hell said we're _bribing_ them, yoi?"

Edward gives _him_ a look in return. "Didn't you mention Thatch giving them more brownies minutes earlier? I'd call _that_ bribing."

Marco opens his mouth to argue and then freezes. He blinks, hard. Then he covers his mouth, realization in his widening eyes. "Oh damn, you're right."

Edward smothers a laugh as best he can, barely managing to keep a straight face as he continues nonchalantly, "And going against Whiskey's direct instructions like that? Well, I'm afraid you might be losing a brother tonight, my son." He shakes his head solemnly, and Marco visibly blanches.

"You – you haven't actually _told_ her, have you?" he quivers – actually _quivers,_ the poor sod. Even the mighty Phoenix fears the wrath of the head nurse.

Edward ignores the question, casting his eyes to the ceiling with feigned bereft. "Thatch was the kindest of souls, and a wonderful son. May he rest in peace –"

" _Don't say things like that, she'll_ actually _kill him, yoi!"_ With flailing limbs and a short burst of blue flames licking at his shoulders, Marco leaps off the bed and dashes for the door, no doubt to save his brother from the claws of the vicious nurse. Edward's bout of laughter chases after him, to which the phoenix responds with curses into the twilight gloom. Ah, the many joys of being a father. And Marco is always so much fun to tease, ruffling his feathers like so – _ha! Ruffled feathers._ Edward swears he's funny.

(And the idea of adding yet more to his family, three troublemakers with each their own little bag of surprises big and small... well, he can only hope. One can't rush things, or worse, force something simply because you desire it. Marco was just the same, after all, and Edward's forbearance came with a great reward.

He'll wait and see what tomorrow brings. He's got a good feeling about it, though.)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N~ YO! Sorry for the wait, this chapter kind of got away from me in ways that actually worked in my favor (eventually -_-) but here we are! It's...a lot longer than my other chapters, but I' NEED TO MOVE THIS PLOT ALONG before I lose my mind XD So there's a few time-skips, not too big though.** **A few special mentions:**

 **Wordlet: Your reviews never fail to make me smile! Thanks again!**

 **Caraline Fisher: Me too, my dear. Me too ;)**

 **Silexwitch: Indeed, Luffy's senses are tingling XD**

 **Fancyunicorn: I see you picked up on that :) Thanks so much for the review, and please, I LOVE long reviews XD**

 **Kippysaurus: Whitebeard is DAD OF THE YEAR. And I make no promises :D**

 **CanIHaveAHug: *SLAMS TABLE* I LOVE THEM TOO. THEY ARE THE GOODEST BOYS.**

 **Sorry if I couldn't answer everyone, but I love you all! And on that note, on with the chapter :) Sorry if it seems fillery, but we'll get moving to Tundra very VERY soon!**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

When Ace opens his eyes, the first soft, blissful colors of daybreak fill the cabin through the porthole. He blinks languidly, sighing through his nose and turning his head to the left, trying not to sink back into the plush pillows no matter how tempting the notion. Luffy's drooling, snoring face is the first thing he sees, Sabo limp and lifeless as a rag-doll behind the younger boy with one, scarred arm thrown over the youngers waist, golden curls a cheerful mess against the pillow and his face.

A smirk tugs at Ace's lips as he reaches over with his free hand, sweeping a strand of hair from Luffy's forehead. They look so peaceful, utterly rested and safe tucked under the covers.

He can't say the same for himself. It's a never-ending vicious cat and mouse chase, him as the cat and sleep the elusive bitch of a rodent constantly slipping through his claws. Maybe it's the prelude to a bigger problem, maybe it's stress, maybe he's still getting used to everything happening so quickly, all at once. Whatever it is, he's _not freaking sleeping,_ and he's sick of it.

Knowing he won't find sleep again (screw the mouse), Ace untangles himself from Luffy's rubbery grip, slips from under the sheets and pulls on his boots. A walk about the ship after the events of yesterday is risky, or at least that's what he's been telling himself. But...with Thatch and Marco...

(Ugh, no wonder sleep avoids him. The thoughts whirling in his head keep chasing her off.)

Sliding off the bed with care, Ace slips out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him after one last glance at his sleeping siblings. Walking through the dark halls at this time of night – day, rather – with only light snores behind closed doors and the constant groaning of the ship against the waves for company, should feel daunting, unnerving, and yet it's oddly familiar. Almost like he's sneaking through the house in search of a snack while the bandits are dead to the world, none the wiser to their depleting food supplies as they sleep the night away.

The thought of those bandits now (of Dadan and her loud mouth, her constant cursing and the ever-present odor of cigarettes clinging to her that steadily became a comfort to him) tugs at Ace's heart a little too hard, so he shakes the memories away quickly. He won't be able to explain away any bites or bloodied lips without making a fuss, be it to Sabo or the mothering commanders. And they are, all things considered, mothering. (Fearsome pirates indeed.)

He reaches the top deck without incident, pushing the door open and stepping out into the blessedly cool, early morning breeze. The waves are tranquil beneath the mighty vessel, an odd occurrence with the Grand Line's reputation, but not at all unwelcome. The winds sweep over Ace, ruffling his feral bed-hair even as he rakes his hand through the wavy mass to fix it, his jaw cracking with a yawn. A quick scan of the deck (with his eyes and the _other_ sense) confirms he's not the only early bird; a few of the crew are already milling about, some disappearing in the direction of the galley, others up in the rigging or in the crows nest.

Already up and at 'em to start the day. Even pirates have schedules to keep.

The decorations from yesterday are still up, rustling and some even glistening in the rays of daylight peeking over the line of the sea. He approaches the nearest railing and runs a hand over what looks like a red bush thing made out of tinsel. Ace regards the...thing and arches a brow, coking his head to one side. He honestly has _no_ idea what any of this is, what it's for, and why everyone seemed so happy to plaster such nonsense all over the ship –

Footsteps heading his way, the familiar clack of sandals against wood, and an unmistakable aura of calm and curiosity, and then – "Hey there, yoi."

 _Marco_.

Letting his hand fall back to his side, Ace turns to face the first mate proper as he draws nearer. The man looks rested despite it being the crack of dawn, relaxed as anything as he closes the distance. If there's any hint of resentment or caution from yesterday, Ace can't find it. It's a minor comfort, so he lets his hackles lower. Just a little. So he swallows his pride and –

"...hey," he mumbles in reply, nodding once.

(Well, he'd tried.)

It seems good enough for the commander, his smile that little bit wider (almost _proud)_ as he comes to lean against the railing, facing the sea, far enough for the teens' liking but close enough for...whatever the hell Marco clearly wants to talk to him about. And sure enough – "What's got you up so early?" he asks. "You feelin' alright?"

Ace hunches his shoulders as he, too, leans against the railing, resting on his elbows. He tries not to fidget and almost succeeds. "...can't sleep," he admits, watching the rolling waves beyond. "Happens sometimes. Annoying as hell."

"Insomnia, yoi?"

Ace shrugs a shoulder. "If that's what it's called, sure."

Marco only chuckles in response, and then there's silence between them as they watch the sunrise, pinks and indigos mingling into beautiful hues of reds and oranges as the sun climbs higher and higher, bringing with it a new day full of promise. Gulls screech overhead, circling the skies in search of an easy meal, be it aboard ship or in the blue abyss itself.

Amid it all, Marco's steady presence an arms length away...it's...nice. This is alright.

(Almost feels like freedom. Just within reach and yet still so far.)

His fingertips brush against the weird tinsel thing again, and he's hit with the sudden urge to mimic Sabo and assault Marco with questions. The Fishman – Namur, right? – had been more than tolerant, indulging even, to Sabo's stream of questions. Marco is still somewhat of an enigma to him; easygoing one minute, intense the next, and all around a cryptic bastard. Still...

 _'Oh to hell with it.'_

A deep breath and a heated inner battle of wills later – "What...what are these things?" Ace asks at last.

Marco blinks from what might've been a blissful trance, looking at Ace. "Huh?"

Ace points at the tinsel thing along the railing, and then sweeps an arm across the decorated ship. "What's all of this stuff? What's it for?"

Following the teens gaze, Marco's befuddlement swiftly turns into fond amusement. "You ever heard of Christmas, yoi?"

Ace blinks slowly. Christmas? What's – _oh._

Understanding dawns on the freckled youth, and a memory – winter nights layered with thick, white snow, a curious five-year-old climbing up to the highest treetop to gaze upon the shimmering, dancing lights from the walls of High Town, cheerful music and haughty laughter rising above the chilling winds, heard even from his lonely position at the edge of the forest. He'd asked Dadan what it was all about. Her grumbled reply had the word 'Christmas' stuffed in there somewhere, and he'd left it at that. Until the next year, when he'd asked Sabo. His response, while reluctant, bitter (it would be a while longer for Ace to truly understand why) but informative enough to leave Ace satisfied; it involved a lot of expensive gift giving, drinking and partying and stuffing yourself full of only the finest food.

Ace had decided he'd wanted nothing to do with Christmas after that.

(And after catching a glimpse of what _they_ considered a Christmas celebration back at _that place_...)

Ace shakes his head, the haunting memories going with it. "...sorta," he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide his clenching fists. "I...I know the nobles back where we came from celebrated it. Put up all this flashy crap and played music, drank wine and ate pricey food." He shrugs, a jerky movement. "Never really appealed to me, or my brothers. So, we never celebrated it."

Marco nods slowly, something in his eyes that's understanding, though Ace can't fathom how or why. "I see. Well, we pirates like to do things a little differently, yoi. In case you haven't noticed, we're pretty big on parties. Not only that, but we've got some of the best cooks this side of the Grand Line going all out on dinner for the occasion. You and your brothers are in for a real treat."

Something pricks at Ace then, at Marco's smile, his tone and diction – a touch of annoyance, completely unwarranted, and yet it starts to fester in the pit of his gut like an old wound because Marco, despite threatening to _kill him,_ despite everything, is _still being so_ _ **nice**_ _to him like it's no freaking big deal_ , and all this talk of treats, Thatch and his ridiculous apron, Izo and the clothes and the room and the sea stone and the friendly greetings and _goddamn Whitebeard –_

Ace can't take it. He's done beating around the bush. He wants answers, the _truth_ and nothing but, screw the consequences, screw subtlety.

So he whirls on the commander, eyes blazing, clenched fists just short of following suit. "Why are you doing all this?" he growls, watching the smile fall from Marco's face in his surprise. It's almost satisfying, but he's far beyond caring anymore. "We – I don't – what's this for? Helping us, feeding us, the clothes, the cuffs – _why?_ You want something from us in return, is that it? Pirates are known for more than just parties, after all," he adds with a mean smile and a scoff. "Hate to break it to you, but we don't have anything you or your captain would find of any value."

Marco regards Ace for a moment, his face an unreadable mask in the ensuing silence. Ace twists his mouth shut and waits, shoulders squared, body tensing. To run or attack, that remains to be seen. Whatever happens, though, he'll be ready. His body is far from recovered (the numb but lingering pain in his back a clear sign of that) and he might not be as strong as he was, back when wrestling bears in the jungle and crocodiles lurking in the lakes was a pastime for him and his brothers, but he'll damn well try.

And then Marco chuckles, shaking his head. "I was wondering when you'd ask, yoi," he says.

Ace draws a breath, fists clenching, shoulders squaring. This is it –

"Honestly, we're doing this because we _want_ to," the commander says. His eyes don't leave Ace's even for a moment, and his smile slips into something that's not quite a frown, but it's firm and unyielding. It takes Ace aback, and his own rotten smirk dwindles until there's nothing left of it.

"You're scared, all of you, and you've been through hell. A few of us know _exactly_ what that feels like. We don't want anything from you in return, nor do we expect you to stay. You have no obligations to us, not me, not any of the commanders, not even Whitebeard. We'd be no better than the bastards who took you in the first place otherwise."

He takes half a step closer. Ace doesn't move or flinch, can't, transfixed on Marco. "We'll be docking in the next few days at a winter island called Tundra. We'll understand completely if you three decide to leave the ship once we drop anchor." And then Marco's smile returns, warmth and sincerity aglow in the piercing blue of his eyes. "You're free now, to do whatever and go wherever the hell you want. It's _your_ decision to make, not ours, yoi. Alright?"

In the brightening rays of the rising sun, Ace stares at Marco, openly shocked, unable to shut his mouth or tear his eyes away from the...the _genuine_ understanding in the shape of his smile and the kindness in his voice. He's reeling from it, like a sucker-punch to the jaw. He blinks, hard, tries to muster the will to speak. All that comes out in the end is a resounding – "...bugh?"

Marco laughs, a light-hearted but very real thing, and reaches out with one hand to pat Ace's shoulder. Ace forgets to flinch at the foreign touch – or perhaps he's simply not afraid of Marco, dangerous a notion as it is. But...he really isn't afraid. Not really. Not anymore.

"It's alright if you don't believe me, yoi," Marco says, removing his hand and turning once again to face the sea.

A part of Ace wants to, foolish and reckless though it seems. The other part continues to shriek at him otherwise. In the end, Ace says nothing and turns back to the sea as well. The new silence born between them no longer reeks of one-sided tension, and Ace loses himself in it, in the golden hues of the sun finally freed from the surface of the briny.

The ship slowly starts to come alive, more crew-members piling out one by one in yawning droves onto the deck to begin the day. Ace cranes his neck slightly to glance around; he can pick out a few familiar faces of the commanders, a crew-member or two he and his brothers passed on their travels or in the galley. Greetings are exchanged with varying degrees of wakefulness and enthusiasm, orders are already being issued out, bodies scrambling up and down ropes and ladders, others hurrying to the galley, no doubt to start preparing breakfast for those who've yet to rise.

It's...nice. Ace likes this. No obligation to start conversation, the sea and the sun and the winds at his fingertips, simply existing in the moment as life goes on around them.

(It's as close to freedom he's felt since leaving that godforsaken island.)

Then Marco shifts, looking like he wants to say something, ask something, break the easy silence they've fallen into. Indecision flows off the older in small waves, not enough to give Ace any reason to bolt or tense, but enough to give him pause as he waits. In the end, the tensions ebbs as Marco shakes his head, deciding whatever he'd wanted to say isn't all that important after all.

(It leaves Ace slightly disappointed, if not a little curious. What did the commander want? Will he ever find out? Probably not.)

They both turn at the sound of hearty laughter echoing from the galley, followed by yet more cheerful cackles and jokes despite the early hour. Marco's lips twist in an exasperated yet fond smile only one with siblings can hope to achieve, and then he faces the teen. "Galley's already filling up, yoi," he says. "You wanna grab an early breakfast before the crowds set in?"

It's staggering how _easy_ it is, now, for Ace to look the man in the eye and nod. "Yeah, sure," he says, stepping away from the railing. "Just, uh...lemme grab my brothers first. I...kinda left without telling them where I was going." The light bout of laughter he gets in response has him fight a grin of his own until he's skittered out of the commanders' sight, heading back down below to collect his (hopefully still sleeping) brothers for breakfast.

Walking back through the halls, passing pirates as he goes (all of whom greet him with wide smiles or sleepy salutes), Ace clenches his fists at his sides, inwardly _shaking._ This...it's still bizarrely new to him. He's trying so damn hard to keep up, to wrap his head around everything that's happened in the last three days alone, and now Marco...

" _...we'll understand completely if you'd rather leave the ship once we drop anchor."_

Ace believes him. Despite everything the last five years have taught him, what the world and all its cruelties have thrown at him and his brothers day after day, Ace thinks he can really, truly believe the First Division commander. If Luffy can trust him, find no fault in him or any of the commanders for that matter, if Sabo can speak freely with a Fishman pirate without the looming threat of violence for even opening his mouth...surely Ace can do the same.

Because Marco has given him no reason, no reason at all, to truly fear him.

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime of heartache, terror and dread...Ace wants to try. _Really_ try. To confide in others like he'd confided in Sabo and then later with Luffy, two people he adores more than life itself. It'll be a long road to travel down, no question, and god forbid it should be easy for them. Nothing has ever been easy, not even tiger hunting or building tree-houses in predator infested jungles in East Blue. But...he wants to try.

(It was only one man out of hundreds that had set Luffy off, after all. One man, whom Ace could flambé without batting an eye, if given the chance. As long as they steer clear of him, this road should be slightly smoother.

If anything, it's the captain, the Strongest man in the World, the rival of Gold Roger, that Ace should be more worried about. After all, he's yet to have any reason to think the commanders share the same ideals as the man they choose to follow.

...the man, for whatever reason, they all call 'Pops'.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Izo is more than delighted, and surprised, to see the boys on deck again.

At Pop's bidding, none of the commanders had gone to their cabin to wake them, giving them space; Izo himself hadn't been present to witness the anomaly of yesterday, he'd heard enough from those who had – Marco mostly – and...well, to say Izo was disappointed would be erroneous. Saddened that whatever progress they'd made had taken a step back, absolutely.

Lo and behold, however, Ace was the first of the trio on deck before even Whitebeard emerged, _talking_ with Marco, all of his own accord. Again, the Sixteenth Commander had missed his chance to bear witness to this gem (morning routines are not to be rushed, art takes _time_ ), but he'd had his earful from the eager bird himself once again at breakfast.

The freckled boy soon hauled his dreary eyed brothers up as well, the younger two still yawning and rubbing their eyes as they followed their oldest like ducklings to the galley. Needless to say, Thatch was beside himself with joy to see them – Luffy looked spades better, fatigue aside, not a trace of the rumored trepidation in his smile as the trio sat down to eat.

And they'd...eaten a little more than the norm, more than what should be healthy for three malnourished children. Izo was honestly shocked, (Luffy had effortlessly made his way through three helpings of eggs, bacon, sausages, beans _and_ cereal _._ _Three!)_ But they've yet to show signs of illness (and Whiskey has yet to come for Thatch's head) so all is well for now.

There's something different about them, Izo notes, watching them carefully from his perch by the main mast as they meander about the deck freely. They stick together like peas in a pod, of course, but their eyes are no longer glued to the floorboards, their postures relaxing gradually the more greetings and hearty smiles they're treated to by the crew. Luffy grins wide and waves at anyone who so much as glances his way, once more exercising his unconquerable ability to melt the hearts of hardened pirates. Sabo offers shy smiles and greetings, mismatched eyes darting around the ship and her crew with open wonderment.

And Ace...Ace isn't _glaring._ He's not exactly smiling like his brothers, no, but the glare is gone, in its place a neutral set of his brows and mouth as he glances about the deck, not a hint of suspicion or distrust in the piercing silver hue. He even offers a nod in salutations instead of a gruff scowl or a grunt.

They're...gaining confidence. They're _changing._ Izo just might cry. Might, but his mascara would run. Still, it's a close thing.

They're already getting on so well, despite the debacle of yesterday evening, despite everything. Marco was right. These boys are far stronger than they've given them credit for, stronger than most who've lived through the same hell of slavery, who either let their trauma warp them into monsters bent on revenge, or who decide to put an end to to their wretched existence.

They're so strong, these boys. Strong and so incredibly _brave_. And should this carry on, perhaps they –

No, no. Don't think like that.

The majority of the crew, if not all of them (who've at least met the boys in person) want the trio to stay, to sail with them to Sabaody and beyond, bear their mark and join their ranks, their family. But they're young, and still vulnerable regardless of their strength of will. Pushing things any further than they may or not already have (or as Marco had put it, 'bribing') are neither acceptable nor tolerated by anyone. Healing, like all good things in this world, takes time. Decisions even more so, or the important ones anyway.

And trust can be a fragile thing, easily broken. Best not tamper with what they've already gained.

(He can always hope, though. There's no harm in hoping.)

In the interim, he has a Division to see to. Tundra is only a few days away, and the children _must_ have their winter wear sorted before the temperatures drop, and Whitey Bay is rumoured to be dropping by with the official report regarding the state of Garnet Island. He does _not_ want to miss that.

With that, he tuns on his heel and heads below deck, a slight skip in his step and a smile on his face. Anyone even thinking of commenting on his chipper mood can and will be shot in the foot.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"So, these are the kids I damn near blasted an island for."

Muscular arms crossed over his broad chest, Jozu casts his gaze ahead to the young trio in question, all watching with rapturous attention as Haruta and Vista spar on the deck for both crews to see, a seamless blend of pointless theatrics, playful barbs and skill between two experienced swordsmen. It's quite the show – combine Haruta's swiftness and enthusiasm for his craft, and Vista's finesse and sportsmanship, it's impossible not to be even slightly entertained. The boys certainly are; Jozu swears he can see literal stars in Luffy's eyes as their swords clash.

"Yes," he replies at last, "that's them. Hard to miss, aren't they?"

Whitey Bay cracks a grin. "They are at that. Guess Izo really did go to town on dressing them up. Quite the colorful bunch," she says, one hand on her hip as regards the boys from afar. They'd been nervous when her ship arrived alongside the Moby, keeping their distance from her and her crew once they boarded, wary as feral cats. It wasn't until after the briefing with their allied captain, their father and the fifteen commanders (a truly satisfying meeting if ever there was one) that their curiosity eventually got the better of them. Now they sit among both crews in the circle formed in the center of the deck, watching and cheering for Vista and/or Haruta as they duke it out.

(Winner gets to take on Blenheim. That'll be something to stick around for.)

"They're kind of adorable, too. The little one especially," Bay says. Jozu snorts, not surprised in the slightest. Her smile dwindles a moment later, though, a _look_ in her eye that the Third commander would be a fool to not decipher. "They're thin, too," she adds, lowly. "And shorter than they should be."

A grim nod. "They were worse when they first got here," Jozu says, the deep bass of his voice easily heard over the cheers as Vista emerges victorious. "It's only been a few days, but they're recovering. Whiskey's had them checked out today, and even _she's_ surprised by their physical improvement. Though Ace's back still gives him trouble now and then, and apparently he's had trouble sleeping. Other than that, they're doing better than we'd hoped. They should be alright to eat bigger portions, too. No doubt they'll pack on a few pounds and gain a few inches in no time."

Bay hums distractedly, crystal blue eyes fixed on the boys as they stand, attempting to get a better view of the next brawl. Sabo shrinks back from a pat on the head from an overzealous member of her crew, and Luffy clings to Ace's arm in a deathlike grip despite his excited grin. Her eyes narrow. "And how are they mentally? Emotionally?" she asks.

Jozu sighs through his nose. "...getting there. They've taken steps, however. Baby steps, but steps in the right direction nonetheless. They'll get there in time."

Bay's lips quirk upwards, a pleased if not small smile. It turns decidedly guileful, however, as she lifts her head to meet Jozu's eye, the formers' impressive height notwithstanding – "And Marco?"

It's Jozu's turn to crack a grin. "Never thought I'd see the day the bastard actually became the mother hen of three literal children," he says. "Pretty sure the phoenix has imprinted on them."

" _ **PFFFFT –!"**_

In the next instant, the woman is bent over with gales of laughter, tears in her eyes. Several heads turn, including Marco's; one look at Jozu's crud-eating grin, one he can't suppress, and he knows. _"Damn you, Jozu! I'll throw you both in the brig, yoi!"_ he yells indignantly. All it does is set off the rest of them, all too aware of how easy it is to rile the blond with bird jokes.

It gets a smile out of the boys, even Ace. Surely Marco can let it go for that achievement alone.

(He doesn't. The man has to be restrained by a laughing Thatch when Bay outright calls him 'Mama Marco'. It'd taken _years_ for that name to die, and now there's no killing it unless he kills Bay first.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

On the fourth day, Ace finds himself at his usual spot by the railing, perching himself on the edge and letting the winds sweep through his hair. The temperatures are starting to drop the closer they get to the winter island; Izo's already bombarded them with all sorts of winter gear, so much that it took all three of them to stuff the thick coats into the drawers and chests without bursting the furniture itself. The boots were left in the corner by the chest.

(The commander has...really put effort and true heart into every garment he showers them with. And unlike the prodding, cold, groping hands of the servants in the dressing room, Izo gives them space, privacy. And the clothes are... _normal,_ casual, not designed to show off 'assets' of any kind. And Izo's forbearance, his gentle smile, the way he carefully pets Luffy's hair when the boy reaches for a hug...it's...it's far too close to Makino.

And thinking about her still _hurts._ )

Ace shakes the thoughts away, nails biting into his palm as he heaves a sigh. No point in dwelling. That's all in the past. Izo is not Makino, will never be Makino. Who knows if they'll ever see her again...

A bout of laughter has him prick his ears and turn to its source, diverting his thoughts from simpler times and caring smiles from a barmaid. It's Namur and Haruta of Division Twelve; the former is laughing at something the shorter commander had said, getting swatted upside the head for it. Haruta retaliates with a playful shove that sends Namur pitching sideways with a yelp and a muttered profanity.

Amid it all, Sabo sits between them and laughs behind his hand.

Ace slides off the railing to lean against it instead, watching as the two commanders take a seat on either side of the blond by the main mast once more, cheerful and chatting amiably, Sabo offering a point or two or asking a question of which both pirates are more than happy to answer. Sabo's face _glows_ like a shooting star.

They've been at this all afternoon. Despite the commanders undoubtedly having other matters to attend to, they choose to indulge Sabo's boundless curiosity, his thirst for knowledge and understanding. He's _comfortable_ in their presence, now; he still sits like he's conscious of how much space he's taking, knees hugged to his chest and fingers messing with loose fabrics on his person, but he's grinning and laughing freely – not quite with the same reckless abandon as he had five years prior, but still wholly genuine – drinking in every word, every joke and wild tale spun.

Luffy's laughter echoes nearby, joined promptly by Thatch's and another commander named Blamenco or something that can pull things out of his cheeks regardless of their size. It's freaky as all hell, but it delights Luffy to no end (and after all, Ace is made of fire, and Luffy of rubber. Who's he to pass judgement?)

The three of them have been split up before, many times. Be it to hunt, collect anything of value from the Grey Terminal, or...to perform, to follow, to carry hefty loads from the outskirts of the castle and through the damp, dark underbelly of which they'd later made their escape. But thus far, they've been inseparable when they can help it, clinging to each other, sticking close whether awake or asleep. Sometimes it's unconscious, the way Luffy winds his arm around Ace's, or the way Sabo's hand clenches the back of Luffy's shirt with an iron grip. It's only natural, Ace thinks, with the life they've led, the bond they share. What isn't natural, or healthy, is the surge of _panic_ at the very idea of any one of them being out of sight or range for too long, the unyielding talons of fear seeping far too deep to dig out.

Ace feels no such fear now. His brothers are in his sights, true, but they're sitting among feared warriors, those branded barbarous and heartless monsters that plunder and murder and raid the seas unchallenged...and Ace fears nothing. Neither does Sabo, who takes a pat on the back with a shy hunch of his shoulders and a tiny grin that _shines_. Neither does Luffy, who's put his absolute trust in nearly every man aboard (save for one, whom they haven't seen since that day).

It's a drastic change, one that has Ace twitch from time to time. But it's a good change.

Sabo said they needed to break the last few chains tethering them to _that place;_ their constant contact, their inability to be separated for any length of time, is one link in that chain. They need to branch out, test the boundaries, brave the interactions between those that mean well (as far as Ace is willing to believe, for now.) As long as they're happy – _safe –_ he's willing to stand and twitch. If it means they've room to grow on their own, heal, learn to move on and be _able_ to be happy...he's willing to do _anything,_ even have a chat with a pirate commander.

And then there's Whitebeard.

The freckled teen shifts his gaze from Sabo to the giant of a man sitting in his chair. It's the first Ace has really seen of him since the...'confrontation' in his cabin that had ended in their being stuffed into a pillowcase. Not exactly their finest moment.

The captain, hooked up to all sorts of wires and whirring machinery that Ace can't possibly name or fathom their purpose, is in the middle of what seems to be a very one-sided conversation between him, Marco and three of the nurses, one of whom Ace recognizes as Whiskey, the head nurse. They're scolding him for his consumption of booze for what seems to be, judging by their expressions, the hundredth time, and Whitebeard just... _takes_ it, looks _sheepish_ about it, even.

Ace blinks, hard, wondering if his time in the sun has done something to his head because...no pirate captain he's ever come across (only one, a washed-up trash-dweller by the name Bluejam) would even tolerate such insubordination from his subordinates, especially when it comes to booze. Pirates love their booze.

And when the nurses turn to take their leave, deep in discussion among themselves and the first mate, Whitebeard suddenly grows an impish grin as he reaches behind his giant chair, digging around and then unearthing a large tankard of what must be alcohol, popping the cork off and taking a mighty belt. The nurses and Marco turn, gape, and yell in unison – " _Dammmit, Pops!"_

The old captain merely throws his head back and laughs heartily at their indignance – it's an oddly benign if not mischievous laugh. Not one you'd hear from a feared Emperor of the Sea.

Ace watches the exchange, and recalls the banter and jokes, the easy affection displayed by the rest of the crew and commanders alike – the words 'brother' and 'Pops' and...that _other_ word, floating around the ship freely.

These pirates are less like a crew, the ones the world fears and despises without hesitation, and more like a giant family. It's...freaking weird is what it is.

"Something on your mind, yoi?"

Ace does not jump out of his skin at Marco's sudden appearance mere feet from him. He _doesn't._ But he makes his irritation known with a deep scowl, and of course, Marco's response is to laugh. Ace doesn't yet understand the nature of the constant bird jokes everyone seems to make about him, but he _does_ understand the pineapple ones.

Therefore – "It's rude to sneak up on people, pineapple head."

Marco blinks hard, half-lidded eyes unusually wide. Then he sighs from his very soul, shoulders flagging like a wilting flower. "They've already got you into it, yoi," he grouses. Ace simply shrugs, taking immense satisfaction in the weary glare Marco grants him as they lean against the railing. The glare fades eventually, and Marco reiterates his earlier query. "You seemed pretty pensive a minute ago. Care to share with the class?"

Ace pauses, debating. He's spoken his mind several times already, and he's still breathing. And...there's no real harm in _asking,_ certainly. (Then again... _this_ question is...more than just to satiate his curiosity of this crew's bizarre dynamic.)

"...why...why does everyone on this ship call him 'Pops'?" he finally asks. No turning back now. "He _is_ your captain, right? Why not call him by what he is?"

Ace watches as something incredibly fond comes over Marco's, ocean blue eyes aglow with the feeling. "Because he calls us 'sons' and 'daughters'," he says, as though it's as natural as the sunrise and as sure as the sky and the sea are vast and infinitely blue. "None of us have any real family – hell, the whole world hates us, yoi. So it's nice, right? I mean...I know it's just a word..." He shrugs, and his new smile is nearly blinding, full of unconditional affection. "...but it still feels nice."

Ace bites his lip, hard, and feels his heart plummet.

No, he has no idea what that feels like. To have a father, to be someone's son, to be _loved_ like that by anyone. Dadan had cared in her ways, brash though she was and with loose lips that spewed hurtful things (truths, Ace knows) when the sake took hold; Makino barely knew him, and Gramps was never around, wasn't _ever_ around when it mattered, when they needed him most – when _Ace_ needed him. God knows his bastard of a father didn't do a damn thing for him except curse him with his blood, his looming shadow, his _name._

Ace has _no_ idea what having a father feels like, what it means. And frankly, it's too little too late. He doesn't want one, doesn't _need_ one, never has or will. He's survived without one, learned and loved without one, and the old captain can bloody well throw himself overboard if he thinks for a second that he can be _anything_ _ **close**_ _to that for Ace –_

"Hey, you okay there, yoi?" Marco's voice jolts him back to the present. The blond is looking at him oddly, brows creased with concern. "Your lip's bleeding."

 _What...? Oh..._

Ace sniffs once, promptly wiping the blood away with a sweep of his fist across his lip. "'S nothing," he mumbles, averting his gaze to his booted feet lest he face Marco's pity. He doesn't need that, either. "I'm fine." He feels Marco's eyes on him a little longer, scrutinizing, before the man shrugs and steps back as if to say 'whatever you say', relenting. Ace is grateful for it. Though he'd be foolish to think that's the end of it.

They both look up again at a familiar bark, followed closely by the beloved laughter of Ace's youngest brother; looks like Luffy's found Stefan again, and sure enough Ace can see him chasing said dog across the deck, seamlessly weaving through the assemblage of buccaneers – most of whom quickly move out of the way of the human whirlwind, grinning fondly at the sight. Ace can't hope to hide his own smile, watching the little rascal go...

Until Stefan darts too quick to the left for Luffy to follow, and he smacks right into Whitebeard's leg. Whitebeard blinks, startled from a daydream, and peers down at the little boy plastered to his shin. Slowly, Luffy raises his head and stares back.

Ace blanches. By the main mast, having seen and heard the commotion (hard not to, with Luffy's boisterous giggles), Sabo is already on his feet, pale and panicked, abandoning his conversation with the confused commanders.

 _Goddammit, Luffy!_

The captain and Luffy stare at each other, their silence a heavy, tense thing that poisons the air. Ace tenses, ready to rush over, clenched fists already flaring with heat ready to burst through the surface of his skin. In contrast, Sabo's entire posture relaxes, belying the spark of anger, ice cold and piercing and endlessly dangerous, because if the old man _dares_ to lay even a finger on their Luffy –

"Hello, Luffy," Whitebeard says, a smile across his wrinkled features.

Ace blinks, hands falling to his sides as the heat recedes. Sabo blinks, and the ice in his eyes melts.

Luffy, a shy but real smile on his lips, draws back from Whitebeard's leg and signs an enthusiastic greeting of his own that has the captain chuckle; a warm, inviting sound that far differs the boisterous cackle prior. "I see you've got your energy back. That's good. No doubt you've been running circles around the crew since the get-go." Whitebeard leans forward in his chair, enough to give Luffy his undivided attention. "It's been a few days since we've last spoken. Tell me, how have you and your brothers been?"

Ace watches with no shortage of incredulity as Luffy plops himself down in front of Whitebeard and regales the pirate of their 'adventures' aboard the Moby thus far, his gestures rapid with avidness and gaiety that comes naturally to him – it's a wonder how Whitebeard is able to follow along so well, as sign language is far from an easy thing to learn, much like any other language (it's a miracle itself that Luffy managed to learn it at all, too scared to so much as whimper back then. Another thing he has her to thank for...)

The fact that Whitebeard (and all fifteen commanders, evidently) understand sign is...actually awesome. Luffy can still be understood, even if no sound leaves his lips, by more than just his brothers. He can't imagine how Luffy must feel...

At the end of Luffy's tirade, Whitebeard grins wide beneath his moustache. "You've certainly done a lot, boy," he says. "I'm glad the three of you have been comfortable during your stay."

Luffy nods hard enough that his head literally bounces like a yo-yo, beaming fit to burst. 'Yes, we've had lots of fun,' he declares – Ace isn't sure how much of that is true on his part – 'We can't thank you all enough for your help.'

Whitebeard's grin stretches wider as he chuckles again. "It's no trouble at all, my boy. Pirates we may be, but I'm not so callous as to turn away someone in genuine need."

At that, Luffy's smile softens – not quite as cheerful, but not devoid of cheer at all as he nods again. 'I know. Other pirates probably would have, or worse. But you chose to help. That's why you're a good guy and I like you,' he adds with a giggle. Someone gags, grabs their chest and dramatically collapses to the deck at the sound, earning laughter from his companions nearby.

In kind, Whitebeard laughs. "I'm flattered you feel that way, Luffy. But I'm by no means a 'good guy'. My reputation may say otherwise, but I'm a man like any other, an _old_ man at that. I'm not perfect by any means, and I have as much blood on my hands as any other criminal. Still, I endeavour to do what I believe is the right course of action, on my own terms of course. If that means taking in three brats like yourselves –" golden eyes flick in Marco's direction, too quick to be picked up by any but Ace "– or waging war with an entire country for the sake of one life, no matter who they are or where the hell they come from, then so be it."

Ace stares, wonder surging through him anew in the way Whitebeard regards the little boy before him; there's unending fondness in his eyes, profound and wholly genuine that Ace reels from it second-hand.

And then when Luffy's face crumples, still smiling but his eyes shining with tears, surges to his feet and lunges for Whitebeard's leg again, clinging with all his might, Ace's black and yellow heart leaps the same time Whitebeard's eyes widen with surprise. They soften incredibly soon at the little sniffle from the boy attached to his leg, and with utmost care, he lays a giant hand against Luffy's back, patting it lightly.

"You're a brave brat, aren't you?" the man says, his grin a softer, kinder thing. Tears glistening in his eyes, Luffy lifts his head and beams for all he's worth and more.

Ace is, for lack of a better term, utterly floored. This giant of a man, the Strongest in the World, able to crush his foes with a single hand...and yet he's so _gentle,_ kind. Not at all the picture the media, the whole world, has painted of him. If anything, it's the opposite.

(Then again, he's yet to see the man enraged, has yet to see the true extent of the power that gave him his revered name. What made him the greatest rival of Gold Roger.)

At his side, Marco laughs softly. "Not what you expect, is he yoi?" he asks. Unable to conjuror a verbal response, Ace simply shakes his head.

Another chuckle, bewildered and breathless; Ace tears his eyes from his youngest brother to his twin, watching the exchange from where he stands frozen by the mast. Behind the stunned blond, commander Haruta and Namur share a grin and a fist-bump, pride shining in the eyes. Sabo pays them little mind as he turns to Ace, offering a shrug and a slanted grin that says ' _I'm as stumped a you are.'_

Ace...really doesn't know what to think anymore. About the crew, the commanders, Whitebeard... All he knows is that they're crazy. They're all freaking crazy.

(He wonders, briefly, why it doesn't sound like such a bad thing anymore...)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N~ Yooo! Guys, I can't tell you how badly I've wanted to get this chapter out, like, _lordy!_ It's longer than I intended, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Really quick, I don't celebrate Christmas as a personal decision, so forgive me but I won't be delving too deep into the tradition, plus I hardly know a thing about it aside from the gift thing XD  
**

 **A few mentions:**

 **SakuraS41 - Sorry if the warnings deterred you, but I'm glad you like it so far :)**

 **Wordlet - thanks so much for the review, and yes...you shall recieve Thatch's reactions in due time :) XD**

 **Silexwitch - do you need a tissue? XD thanks for the review!**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - Thanks, glad you like it! And Ace and Sabo are 15, Luffy is 12 right now.**

 **CanIHaveAHug - don't cry my dear XD**

 **VisitorNo.18 - I completley agree. Longer chapters might be in order, or just less exposition XD Thanks for the review :)**

 **Thanks to everyone who reviewed! And to those wondering when Shanks and Luffy are gonna cross paths...I have plans, rest assured :D In the meantime, here's some fluff!**

 **I OWN NOTHING!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

 _The King peers at them over the tip of his squared nose, arrogance clear on his polished, repulsing features; there's just a hint of surprise in his dark eyes as he looks the twelve-year-old boy up and down._

 _Ace doesn't move, doesn't twitch or curl his hands into fists like he so desperately wants to. He doesn't meet the King's eyes either, fixing his gaze instead on his own bare feet on the cold tiles. Eye-contact with the King is forbidden among slaves unless he permits it. He wishes it were otherwise. He wants this bastard to see his rage, feel every ounce of his burning hatred so that he might combust where he stands._

" _I must admit I'm surprised," the King says at last, turning to the maids and servants that had...'groomed' and dressed him and the older girl – he doesn't know her name, never asked, never given, never bothered – standing ridged on Ace's right. "You've transformed a pair of lowly urchins into something presentable, I dare even say exquisite!"_

'Disgusting son of a bitch', _Ace thinks, fighting a shudder when a calloused hand clasps his bare shoulder, another hand stroking his hair, free from its knots and split ends, like one might stroke a dog's sleek fur. (He thinks of the way the princess makes Luffy sit on a pillow on the floor beside her little throne, the way she giggles and pets his hair with one hand, gripping the chain of his strangulating collar with the other, and his stomach churns.)_

 _"Of course, your majesty," the servant behind Ace says, his oily voice sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine. He sounds_ far _too pleased for someone who's spent the last hour and a half manhandling two children. "Only the finest may step upon the stage you've set for this grand occasion. The fabrics were graciously imported from Alabasta, the jewels and such brought in from Water 7 on express delivery. And aren't they just the prettiest things in the finery you've blessed them with? Even for slaves, they're simply beautiful! Darlings, give King Serge a smile!"_

 _The girl immediately raises her head, rattling the gemstones around her neck and hanging off her earlobes. She smiles at the King, white teeth sparkling behind painted lips. She's immaculate, waves of brown hair pinned up in a high ponytail, dressed in iridescent blue and violet fabrics that do little to cover her flat belly or her smooth legs – the outfit is called a bedleh or something, but looks more like a glorified bikini, the strapless top leaving little to the imagination, the front and back of the skirt flowing like water to the floor yet reveal most of her legs and hips. Her wrists and ankles are framed by golden shackles, not tethered to any chain, and glitter dances across her rosy cheeks and eyelids in the light of the chandelier overhead._

 _(You can't tell how afraid she truly is, that she hadn't heaved her last meal in the dressing room once the servants left, hollow eyes staring into the mirror at what had become of her, what they've been forced to do for the pleasure of others, for survival. They've been training together for months now, and he's never seen her like this. It prods and pricks at something in his heart, the same it does for Sabo and Luffy, though he's yet to even know her name.)_

 _The fingers in Ace's hair clench enough to elicit a wince from him as the servant leans down. "Boy," the servant whispers in his ear; there's a hint of warning in his voice, ice behind the wrinkling smile. "Give his majesty a smile."_

 _A flash before his eyes – Sabo's screams as his face is held against raging fires; Luffy pinned as the whip cracks and slashes the flesh of his back, wailing in agony – and Ace's heart turns to ice._

 _He swallows his rage, his fear and hatred, lifts his head and smiles. His attire is as extravagant as the girl's, but in fiery reds and oranges in contrast to her ocean blues and evening violets. Where her smooth, spotless back is left bare, Ace is the opposite; no one wants to see a deformed performer. The golden shackles around his neck, wrists and ankles are tight, laced with sea stone, and the gold earrings itch terribly from where they'd been stabbed into his abused earlobes. The glitter and powder on his eyelids beg to be rubbed at, but he abstains from moving, the rattling of hundreds of tiny jewels a tinny sound to his ears._

 _The King grins, wicked and satisfied. "Lovely," he says, and reaches out to lift their chins with a gloved finger. Ace fights the urge to jerk back as he stares into their eyes. "Now, be sure to give my guests a good show. I don't want to have to ruin such pretty faces if any are left the slightest bit disappointed. When the night is over, you are to return to the dressing room. You'll be escorted to your rightful places thereafter, and I expect every last jewel to be accounted for upon your departure. Am I understood?"_

 _"Yes, your majesty," the girl chimes, the smile frozen on her face. The King looks to Ace expectantly._

 _Every fibre of his being begs him to bite off the finger under his chin, to scream and fight and rip these awful,_ _ **awful**_ _people to shreds. Hell, he can burn this place to the ground the minute he steps onto the platform, when they remove the sea stone for something more decorative and valuable._

 _But he can't. He won't, and the King knows he won't. His little brothers will be watching from the side of the ballroom, chained, alongside the guards with guns and honed blades strapped to their hips..._

 _("Your power is truly fascinating," the King had said that night, almost a year ago, Ace kneeling before him with shackles that sapped the energy from him, his flames locked inside his body. The older man's grin was truly evil. "Despite your little...tantrum, I can't possibly dispose of such potential. Therefore, I offer you a deal. You shall demonstrate your powers on my stage, a 'performer' if you will. Give my guests something to watch. Something awe-inspiring. Something to_ fear _. Entertain them. And in exchange...the blond and the defective runt will live.")_

 _It was enough, more than enough, for him to brush aside his pride, his disgust – anger, fear_ tears – _and agree._

 _His flames will bring them joy and fear, and the King receives their praise and admiration. His compliance will keep them alive. His obedience will keep them unharmed. That's the deal._

 _So Ace forces the smile back on his face, shoulders taut and lips a fine line of sweltering fury. "Yes, your majesty," he says._

 _The King grins again. He knows he's won."Good. Now go. Dance for me, slaves."_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Tundra is within their reach, a day or so away. The temperatures have already dropped, this Ace knows, more so when he wakes up to his younger brothers clinging and cuddling up to him like the human heater he is, wrapped up in blankets and shivering.

It doesn't irritate him like it used to, back in their tawdry tree-house when the snow fell in heaps, the winds too cold to make sleeping alone safe on the worst of nights; their lack of hesitance to invade what used to be his personal boundaries, unused to their affectionate clinging, would have him throw them off come morning, scowling and yelling at their sleepy complaints to hide the blush creeping along his cheeks.

Now, however – "Geroff," he grunts, wiggling a little under Luffy's dead-weight and Sabo's arms pinning his left arm to his side, the blond's legs wrapped around Ace's waist. Drool leaks from Luffy's gaping, snoring mouth and onto the front of Ace's shirt, and Sabo's face buries itself against Ace's neck.

The response from said buried face, gold curls a cheerful mess atop his head from all the tossing and turning, is a mumbled – "mmmmno," and Sabo hugs him tighter, drifting right back to sleep. Luffy snores on, unhindered.

Ace blinks at the ceiling. "...fine," he mutters. Unable to bring himself to fling them off or even care, early in the morning as it is, Ace shuts his eyes and prays for an extra hour before Thatch, inevitably, comes knocking. He also briefly wonders how they've managed to set up and follow a routine in the mere days they've been aboard ship.

He gets an hour and a half before the commander makes his grand appearance, cooing at the sight of the impromptu cuddle pile with the young, incredibly irked fire user. He's only forgiven due to the three steaming cups of hot cocoa he bears with him upon his entry, having foreseen the oncoming chill and taking measures to ensure the crew (and their...guests, Ace can't deny it any longer) are warmed up for the morning. It's damn good, too, as are most of Thatch's culinary goods, and it brightens Ace's mood considerably.

Once they've downed their drinks, Luffy managing to burn his tongue twice in the process despite three warnings, the trio pull on the winter clothes Izo had gleefully supplied them with, scarves, boots and all, and trek through the halls to brave the deck.

The skies are cast a foggy grey when they arrive, the winds chilling and unforgivably bitter. There's no snowfall as of yet, but the number of pirates slipping and sliding across the deck is unending and utterly hilarious. Even the commanders end up on their asses with all the grace of hapless, squalling ducklings. It's all Ace can do to keep himself from outright laughing at the poor sods, though the grin that steals his freckled face, and Sabo's, is wide and unrepentant.

Luffy has no such reservations, and laughs loud until he meets a similar fate when his boot slips on a thin sheet of ice by the railing. Karma herself proves to be a bitch when Sabo, pointing and laughing at their baby brother, follows quickly after with a high-pitched squeak, landing on his ass. Ace slaps his hand over his mouth to stifle his snickers, lest he tempt karma and her watchful eye.

Another booming laugh, familiar now after days aboard the Moby Dick, and Whitebeard steps onto the deck with confident strides, grinning at the predicament his...'crew' faces so early in the morning. Marco is, oddly enough that Ace's brows rise to his hairline, perched on the captain's right shoulder, his expression giving away nothing but exasperated fondness at the hilarity around them...as if it's _normal_ for the first mate to sit on his captain's shoulder like a parrot.

(The number of things that continue to surprise Ace are growing, to the point where Ace himself has to wonder _why_ he's still constantly surprised.)

"Poor sods," the old man chuckles as he makes his way towards his chair, steady even on the slippery deck the rest of the crew are forced to struggle across. "Sea legs mean nothing on the ice – might as well have jelly legs."

Marco's mouth quirks in a wry smile; the look in his eyes turns sly, suddenly. "Quick question, Pops – probably a stupid one," he adds with a shrug, "but how come _you're_ not slipping right along with the rest of them, yoi? 'The bigger they are, the harder they fall', right?"

Whitebeard casts him a wide grin, mischief gleaming in his twinkling eye. "A stupid question indeed, my boy. It's because I am Captain Whi _iiii_ _ **iiite**_ _–!"_ He lets out a _yelp_ when one leg slides to far forward, and he freezes mid-slip, eyes wide. All action stops on deck, eyes on the captain, jaws agape. Whitebeard blinks once, twice. "–beard."

The crew promptly collapses in their fit of laughter, ringing loud and proud in the grey skies. Still perched on Whitebeard's shoulder, Marco can't seem to breathe, bent over and clutching the captain's coat for dear life as he heaves with uncontrollable laughter, tears in his eyes. And amid the cacophony of hooting pirates, Whitebeard freaking _pouts –_ and it's too much. It's just _too damn_ _ **much**_ _–_

Ace smirks, loudly, and breaks down laughing the same time his brothers (still on the floor) do. It's all Ace can do simply to stand upright (to fight the threat of tears, regardless of why or how they come), clutching the banister for balance. His gut _hurts_ from the strain, lungs wheezing for breath, and...it feels _good._

Laughing, faces flushed with happiness and no looming threat of punishment in sight, feels so damn _good._ And Whitebeard laughs with them when he eventually regains balance, taking it all in stride when others might get indignant –

It's almost enough to have Ace finally consider...

(He's then too busy slipping and falling on his own ass, karma claiming her next victim, to see the look of pride, warmth and unending fondness that Whitebeard sends his way.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

When midday rolls around, the blazing sun at its zenith, the ice on deck finally melts, putting an end to the baby deer impressions and allowing all to get down to business without hindrance. And there's much to do with Tundra only hours away; parties and meals to prepare and lists upon lists of requirements to see done before their departure for Sabaody.

And though he's made it explicitly clear to his sons and daughters that they're not to be pushed or pestered of it, Edward has to wonder what the little scamps plan to do once they dock.

Seven days aboard, mingling with the crew, has done wonders to the three, wary young things who'd once harbored no trust, reeking of fear and submission. Now, Sabo willingly, eagerly, sits among the commanders and even Division members, asking questions and glowing like a flare at every answer, – sometimes, Edward will catch the lad looking up at the crows nest as if tempted to climb the damn thing and view the seas from a higher standing. There's nothing stopping him from doing just that, of course, but he doesn't know that, and won't until he asks. Edward has no doubt he will.

Ace's transformation is just as dramatic, though there's still plenty of room for growth. He gets along just fine with Marco, having confided in the older man. Thatch, has made quite the impression on him also (though it has less to do with his treats and more to do with the man himself, Edward thinks, vibrant personality and natural charm unmatched. The treats certainly help, though.) The anger dissipated with every passing day, as had his mistrust – only a small fraction remains, and that, too, is quickly fading. His bout of laughter this morning at Edward's blunder is proof of that.

As for Luffy –

" _Shishishi!"_

Well, Luffy needs no explanation really, Edward muses as he regards the boy in question sitting on his knee, legs swigging back and forth and utterly cosy in the striking red coat and thick boots as he watches the crew go about their business. It's humbling as it is a delight to see how far this one's come along since the day he'd all but screeched in Edward's face, how _content_ and trustful he is in the old pirate's presence, enough to pick him as his new perch. (Marco may have had a hand in that. He wonders if the boys know of Marco's true nature; he hasn't heard any bird jokes from them yet, but he can't _wait_.)

Wide brown eyes drink everything in, from the dull hue of the skies, the easy banter and co-ordination of the crew below, even the occasional gull swooping about in search of something to eat. Luffy's eyes follow one gull in particular, and his grinning chops drool with anticipation. Edward shakes his head. "I hope you're not gonna try your hand at catching one of those gulls, brat," he says.

Luffy twists his neck to look up (and up) at him, the wide arc of his grin a cheeky thing. 'Looks tasty,' he signs. Of course he does – Edward has yet to know the boy's full name, but it won't surprise him if it turns out he's a 'D'; he's far too much like Garp, or even Roger, to not be. Those fools would eat anything so long as they knew they could catch it. And with Luffy's powers, he very well _could_ catch the bird. However – "I'd advise against it. They might not look like much, but gulls are fierce little bastards when threatened. You'd be full of scratches before anything else, boy."

Luffy's shrug is careless as anything, but he doesn't make the attempt. Small blessings.

The child then swivels around on his rear to face Edward proper, crossing his legs and beaming. 'I like this ship, old man,' he signs, knowing the captain won't take offense to the nickname; 'Whitebeard' is too long to spell out on his fingers. 'Everyone is so nice and funny, and the food is great. I like Thatch and Marco, and Izo gives me cool shirts. My brothers really like it here, too.'

Edward fights a truly stupid grin, but it's a close thing. "Glad to hear it," he says. "I've no doubt you'll love the parties we have in store once we reach Tundra. We Whitebeard's pride ourselves on having a damn good time. We'd be an utter disgrace for pirates otherwise."

" _Shishishi!"_ Luffy snickers in agreement, bobbing his head up and down hard enough that his rubber head literally bounces. Edward hasn't seen the full extent of Luffy's rubber abilities, but he's heard stories – the boy twisting his neck at a 180 degree angle like an owl, scaring the living piss out of several men and women in the galley while he giggles, mischievous little monkey he is.

The smile start to fade however, and Luffy looks down at his lap instead, pensively biting his lip. Edward cocks a brow and waits, curious but patient, and is thus rewarded when Luffy lifts his head again.

'I...I want to stay a little longer,' he signs, and Edward's old heart leaps (better be careful, lest he have a heart attack). 'I like it here. Sabo –' he spells out his brothers' name across his palm and fingers, '– likes it here, too. Likes learning about things. I think he'd like to stay, too.'

It's fantastic news, almost enough to have the captain to call for a banquet here and now. But the look on Luffy's face isn't quite as eager. There's a hint of sadness, reluctance in the shape of his frown and the slant of his shoulders. Edward might have an idea as to the cause, but still he asks – "And what about Ace? What does he think?"

Surprise flickers across young, scarred features for a moment before settling into the barest of smiles, fond yet exasperated, the embodiment of a younger sibling. 'I don't know,' Luffy admits with a shake of his head. 'He won't tell us yet. Think he's not sure. I saw him talking to Sabo before, but that's a big brother thing so I couldn't listen.'

Edward nods (fighting another smile at the latter part), not all that surprised; Ace is far more cautious, a harder shell to crack. It makes sense for him to carry lingering hesitation, no matter how many times his distrust is proven unfounded. Because of this, and of what Edward knows is the case when the oldest sibling is the dictator and protector, Luffy's reluctance is understandable; he wants to stay, but will follow his brothers. Admirable in his loyalty, but with drawbacks that leave no one satisfied.

"I see," Edward replies. "There's no pressure, I hope you know, in making a decision. We're more than happy to accommodate you. However, once we reach Sabaody we'll be heading straight for Fishman Island and then the New World. We won't be able to turn back if that's what you and your brothers want – hm?"

He pauses, blinks, looks over Luffy's head and down at the deck.

Ace is standing mere feet from Edward's boots, regarding the old captain with narrow-eyed determination, hands at his side and back erect. Sabo stands a little ways behind, hands folded behind his back as he shuffles where he stands, offering the captain a faint but real smile in greeting. Ace spares Luffy a smile when the boy spins on his rear again and waves, which quickly fades once he faces Edward again.

The boys want something, that much is clear. Edward decides to play the fool for now (as he does when any of his children come to ask for anything, it's funny as hell to watch them squirm) and smiles. "Afternoon Ace, Sabo," he greets. "How are you boys doing?"

Sabo takes a brave step forward, standing beside his older brother. "We're...we're doing very well, thank you, Captain Whitebeard," he replies with a short bow, still so formal. It's almost cute, had it been learned from any other source. At least he's abstained from calling everyone 'sir' (or 'ma'am', which had gotten _quite_ the giggle and laugh from his daughters, flattered to pieces or incredibly amused).

The blond fidgets a moment longer, clearing his throat. "Ummm...Ace has something he wants to say on behalf of all of us," he says quickly, nudging Ace with his elbow. The look of absolute _betrayal_ on his freckled face damn near sends Edward over the edge, worse still when Sabo raises his hands in surrender and shakes his head. Ace rolls his eyes and smacks Sabo's arm, eliciting a whine that goes unnoticed as the older turns to face the captain.

Edward waits. On his knee, Luffy looks between his two brothers with wide-eyed befuddlement. Finally, Ace draws a breath. Then he dips is head ever so slightly.

"...thank you," he says, "for letting us stay. And we...we'd like to stay a little longer, if – if at all possible. We...we don't wanna be a burden, but..." He clears his throat awkwardly, eyes darting sideways to avoid Edward's at all costs as he straightens, lips twisted in an embarrassed sort of grimace that fails to be anything but endearing.

Edward blinks, hard. Luffy's mouth drops to the deck. Sabo stifles a smile behind his hand.

 _'They all want to stay after all. Well, I'll be damned...'_

In the end, it's unavoidable – Edward laughs, startling all three boys and nearly sending Luffy careening to the deck if not for the grip on his pants. Mirth dances in his golden eyes as he regards Ace, the poor boy confused beyond hope. "You're a stubborn brat," he says, "but that's what I like about you three. You're welcome to stay as long as you need. Any time you want to turn back before we reach Sabaody, I'll have one of my commanders take a group to see it done." His grin softens. "And it's no burden. We're glad to have you with us, my boy."

Silver eyes widen as Ace's breath catches on the slightest of gasps. He stares at Edward, as if looking for a lie in his eyes, a jest in his smile, and of course coming up empty.

Then the redness that claims his face travels all the way up to his hairline, and turning his head away does nothing to hide it. "W-whatever," he mutters, earning a gasping laugh from Sabo and a giggle from Luffy. He mutters a curse under his breath and starts to stomp away, pausing only to bark "Luffy, get down from there!" before continuing on towards their cabin. A fine place for a teenager to sulk in embarrassment.

Chuckling openly at Ace's somewhat dramatic exit, Sabo then spreads his arms to catch Luffy in a bridal carry when he obediently hops off Edward's knee, giggling in his brothers' arms and throwing is own around Sabo's neck for support, clearly having no intention of using his legs any time soon. The blond grins and bumps his forehead against Luffy's, a gesture so innocent and unrepentantly loving that it twists Edward's heart something fierce – and then Sabo turns to the old man one last time. He swallows hard, blinking back the shine of tears as he dips his head.

"Thank you, Captain," he says simply, and carries Luffy, waving at Edward over Sabo's shoulder, away to trek after their older brother.

Edward watches them go and then casts his eyes ahead, where the outline of Tundra peaks through the layer of fog settling over the flat calm of the sea. He chuckles to himself, his old heart swelling with pride, joy and so much more. They're staying – Edward can hardly believe it, can hardly believe their bravery, resilience and willingness to learn, see, _trust_ in an old pirate and his unruly family of a crew, in mere days. After the hell they went through, the things they lost in the years under the oppression of others deeming themselves gods of this world...

It goes to show that the world and the demons that crawl about it can't claim all the young souls treading its land and sailing its seas; especially the ones who take their stand and fight back, regardless of their methods. Even if it means (by all intents and purposes) temporarily joining a renowned pirate crew. Edward couldn't be prouder.

They're gonna throw one hell of a party once word gets to Thatch, not that they weren't already going to. They _are_ pirates.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

They dock at Tundra on the morning of December 24th, the harbour piled with snow and ice that breaks easily under the might of the Moby Dick.

The townsfolk don't seem the least bit afraid of having one of (if not _the)_ most powerful pirate crew on their shores. If anything they're excited, awestruck, some climbing rooftops just to wave at the crew, most of whom wave back.

But they're not what draws Sabo's wide eyes; he's fixated, utterly breathless at the immaculate sheet of endless _snow_ coating every inch of the small island, from the docks to the hills and deep forests, to the rooftops of every home and inn and shop, even the mountaintop in the distance. It's beautiful, more snow than Sabo's sure he's seen in his life, more than even Goa on its harshest winters. It's been so _long_ since he's even seen snow this perfect, unspoiled by quaggy boots or sludge or blood, not even as the crew dismount the ship via gangplank; all they leave behind are deep footprints, the snow about a foot deep.

It's...it's almost too beautiful for him to even dare step into.

His brothers, of course, beg to differ.

Luffy's bubbly laughter can be heard all across the harbor, attracting attention from both the pirates and onlookers – a few days go, attention of any sort would have cowed them, their eyes fixed on their feet, spines ridged and hearts pounding with dread. Now it fazes Sabo little, too focused on his baby brother to give it much thought as the twelve-year-old reaches the railing by the gangplank, staring open-mouthed across the snowy landscape beheld to them. Ace follows at a sedate pace, though his wonderment is just as obvious.

Luffy bounces on his booted feet, tugging the sleeve of Sabo's long coat and pointing eagerly at the mounds of snow with his free hand. Sabo can't help the snicker as he ruffles the boy's unruly black mane, flecks of snow already settling in the light snowfall. "I know you wanna play, but we've gotta wait for permission to get off the ship first, Lulu," he says, smiling ruefully when Luffy pouts, disappointed. Across from him, _Ace_ pouts and fails to hide it. Dummy.

"Oh, you're waiting for permission?" asks a familiar, cheery voice. They turn, and Thatch is there, carrying what looks like a crate full of... _something,_ Sabo honestly has no idea. He grins at them, as is the norm. "I was wondering why you three were standing here. Go right ahead, kiddos. Just don't go too far for now. We'll be heading into town soon to drop off some 'gifts' for the townspeople near the markets; an expression of gratitude and goodwill for letting us dock and join the party."

Sabo blinks. He gets the latter part, sort of, but the former...they're just gonna... _let_ them off the ship? Just like that? No supervision, no rules aside from the one? Aren't they wary that they might change their minds about staying and flee the crew while their backs are turned? Or what if –?

"Hey..." Thatch says, his voice oddly distant, confused if not a little wary. His brows pinch together. "What's Little Luff doin'?"

Sabo blinks, shares a glance with Ace. Both look down – and then follow the elongated arms, fingers grasping the railing, as Luffy pulls the rest of his body further and further, tensing up like a slingshot ready to fire, grinning manically –

"Grab him," they chorus, and pounce as Luffy zips forward, Thatch screeching a curse as he dives sideways to avoid the flying child. They miss by a hair, collapsing to the deck in a tangled heap, and Luffy rockets himself off the deck with a crow of delight, soaring in a wide arc and finally descending – _P_ _OOF!_

Ace and Sabo clamber to their feet in time to peer over the railing and see naught but Luffy's legs flailing, the rest of him buried from head to hips in a large mound of snow shovelled aside by a very confused fisherman.

Sabo's not the only one to burst out laughing, hard and from the belly. He's laughing hard enough that he falls to his knees, gasping for air and giving himself hiccups, leaving Ace to hurry down the plank to rescue their little brother, aided by a hysteric Haruta and Rakuyo when all their pulling only makes Luffy's rubber body stretch further.

(Not even a minute on land and already Sabo knows it's going to be a very good day.)

Once Luffy was successfully dug out, warned against pulling stupid stunts like that again (Sabo doubts he'll heed them, being Luffy), they follow the commanders to the town center, where the markets have long been set up, lights flickering, music flowing, and hundreds of people already milling about, no doubt preparing for the celebration this evening. The addition of pirates hasn't hindered them more than it has added to their anticipation – pirates are known for their parties, and from what Sabo remembers of their first night aboard, the Whitebeard's are no exception.

When they reach the bustling market, clear of snow lest it impede the shoppers, Marco issues out instructions, more for his rowdy crew-mates – no trouble-making, no 'dine-and-dashes' (the boys trade barely concealed grins at this, old memories already springing to mind) and no I.O.U's. Other than that, they're free to do as they please.

(Marco personally, without hesitation, grants the trio with a sack each full of Bellie about the size of their palms. Sabo insists, almost begs, for the man to take the money back, they couldn't _possibly_ accept. The older blond will have none of it, assuring them with a grin – "As long as you sail with us, you'll be treated the same way, yoi. Meaning you get your spends the same as everyone else." He winks and walks away to attend to his waiting comrades, leaving the boys gaping after him.

Tears sting Sabo's eyes, clutching the sack with trembling hands. Beside him, Ace bites his lip.)

Following Izo and Rakuyo, Sabo links hands with Luffy as they browse through the winding stalls, bursting with song, sweet and mouthwatering aromas, bursting with colors so vibrant and beautiful it's almost blinding; Ace joins Marco, Kingdew and Haruta elsewhere, but Sabo's not worried. It's a foreign feeling, but a very welcome one.

Hopping from booth to booth, Sabo can't stare at one thing before the next thing catches his eye, swallowing all his attention, curiosity and wonder filling to the brim with the threat to burst from it. This place is _wonderful,_ alive in ways High Town never was or could ever hope to be. And this is just _one_ town on one island; who knows where they'll sail to next, what they'll see, who they'll meet –

Luffy tugs on his hand suddenly, jarring him from his thoughts as the boy leads him away from Izo and Rakuyo to a stall selling fabrics and accessories. Sabo wonders when Luffy had ever become a fan of anything decorative that he can't eat (his already bulging sack is a testament to that, and another reason why the little glutton can and never should be trusted with money), but the vast array of clothing and the like are incredibly eye-catching; if there's anything aside from meat that'll capture Luffy's eye, it's shiny things.

"Hey there, young lads," the owner of the stall greets cheerfully, smiling wide under his greying beard, eyes twinkling behind round glasses. "See anythin' ye like?"

Sabo offers a soft smile in return, about to attempt to reply until Luffy points at a yellow sash-like garment hanging overhead. It's bright, long, thick, and Luffy seems to adore it. The owner's grin is near identical to Luffy's, already warming up to the bubbly twelve-year-old. "Aye, I see ye have an eye for quality," he laughs, carefully taking the fabric down and holding it out for Sabo and Luffy to see up close. "Ye like it? Made it myself a few weeks back, I did! Anythin' else ye fancy?"

Not two seconds later does Luffy look up, around, and point to a vibrant red cardigan with billowy sleeves, the placement of the golden buttons exposing most of one's chest. It's big, bigger than Luffy is, but his brown eyes shine with _need_ , as though he sees his feature in the garment. The owner seems to understand (somehow) and takes it down as well, chuckling at Luffy's enthusiasm.

He brings up the price, and Luffy's face promptly falls when he looks into his sack to find that he's barely enough left for even the sash on its own. That's what happens when you spend all your money on food, Sabo muses, but doesn't hesitate to fork up the rest of his cash for both items.

(He'll sacrifice the hat and the gleaming goggles he'd spotted sitting innocently on a shelf at the back of the stall, screaming reminiscence of simpler times of tiger hunting and scrounging through garbage heaps. If only to see the delight on his brothers' face when he hands Luffy the cardigan and sash. The firm kiss on the cheek he gets as they leave to find Izo and Rakuyo waiting for them only serves to melt him further, even as he playfully swats the back of Luffy's head.

He's already got a few interesting knick-knacks and books to satisfy him. A top hat and a pair of flashy goggles can be found anywhere, anytime; years of being denied anything, _everything_ , Luffy deserves this. His brothers' happiness comes first.)

As night-time falls, the entire town springs to life in a burst of multicolored lights, songs, bells and dancing in the square around a tamed bonfire. Sabo and Ace are all but glued to the outskirts of the 'ring' as it were, watching the happy dancers twirl and jig in tune to the music. He can easily spot a few commanders and division members among them, grinning and clapping along; even Luffy joins in, linking hands with Thatch and Haruta as they spin in circles until they're dizzy. Smirking as the trio inevitably teeter and fall to the ground in a laughing heap, Sabo eyes his older brother from the side.

His smirk falls when he notices the _look_ in Ace's silver eyes, fire reflected in the silver hue. His expression gives nothing, but his eyes are a brewing storm, sharp and yet glazed over as he watches the dancers skip by, watching their feet, their hands, their smiles, the shimmering lights...

 _He's thinking of_ back then, _of the stage and the performances_. _He's thinking of her..._

Sabo nudges Ace once in the side, softly. It does the trick, snapping him right out of his daze, eyes fluttering and breath catching on a gasp as he whips his head to face Sabo. "Whu-What? What'd you say?" he stammers, like he hadn't been in the middle of a flashback seconds prior.

Sabo dismisses it, but only for now, and instead offers a grin. "What'd you get from the market?"

Relief flashing quickly across his features, Ace smirks and pulls out something from his sack. It's a disgustingly bright orange, assaulting Sabo's retinas. "A hat," Ace says, like the cowboy abomination and crime against fashion is anything but a hat; it bears two blue smilies, one frowning and one smiling, and a string of red beads sitting above the rim. Two long, orange side straps hang down both sides of the hat and meet at a large medallion of a bull's skull with orange tassels. "Pretty cool, right?"

Sabo looks up at Ace. "It's freakin' ugly."

Ace snickers, plopping the disaster on his head with a flourish. "I _love_ it," he declares.

"It must _burn."_

"Freakin' try it, I dare you."

Before Sabo can make the attempt, a rubber hand latches onto his wrist and tugs him insistently towards the dancing crowd. He squawks indignantly, his incredible reluctance met with ignorance or teasing laughter from Ace as Luffy pulls him until he's literally wrapped in his unyielding embrace. Sabo sighs, accepting his fate (before the puppy eyes come to play) and links his hands with Luffy to spin them around the bonfire, blending seamlessly into the joyous crowd.

And it's fun, he realizes. More so when Luffy, laughing wildly, spins them faster and faster, and soon Sabo is laughing with him. Ugly hats and lost goggles aside, it really is a good day.

(If he lets the music and laughter take over, he can almost ignore the flames of the bonfire altogether.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Aren't you going to join them?"

Ace only jumps a little at Whitebeard's gravelly voice as the captain approaches the ring. Amber eyes regard Ace kindly, and Ace has to look away, watching his little brothers go at it instead. He ignores the twitch in his limbs, the instinctive urge to get out there and 'put on a show', entertain the masses, _dance for me, slave –_ "Not right now," he manages, folding his arms lest his nails bite into his palms again. "I...I'm no good at dancing, really."

It's a damn lie and they both know it – Whitebeard _must_ know, since Whiskey told him and the commanders after their first check-up. They've never brought it up aside from asking how his back is doing, and Ace is grateful for that. Grateful for a lot of things, actually...

He risks a glance up (and up) at the old captain. "Are you gonna join?" he asks. He's not surprised in the least when Whitebeard laughs.

"I've got energy for a lot of things, brat, but dancing isn't one of them," he says, his grin impish. "Never been good at it myself either, really. No, I'm content watching my children have their fun. It'll be a while before we drop anchor again after this."

Ace blinks. He faces the dancers and the flames dancing with them in the night gloom, his brows furrowing pensively. A while, huh. How long is 'a while' exactly? And...now that they've chosen to stay, how long will he and his brothers be stuck aboard the ship, sailing along as 'passengers'? How long can they possibly keep three freeloaders aboard before they really _do_ grow tired of them or put them to work – ?

"Say, Ace," Whitebeard's voice, softer than his usual booming volume, snaps Ace from his downward spiral in the nick of time, and the teen looks up again. Whitebeard doesn't look at him, eyes fixed on the celebrations. Ace can't quite read his expression, but there's a debate in his gaze. It seems to come to an end quickly, though, and when the captain looks down to meet Ace's gaze – Ace couldn't look away if he tried, not in the face of such open _kindness –_ "What say you and your brothers stay a little longer than a few months?" he asks.

Ace blinks. "What...what do you mean?"

Whitebeard smiles at him, endlessly warm. "I'll be honest with you, boy – you're worth too much to abandon in a world like this. Run wild with _us_ , and our flag will be yours."

The blood freezes in Ace's veins even as his heart pounds with a vengeance. _'Wait...wait, what's he mean? Does he – is he –?'_

"Join my crew," Whitebeard says, "and I will call you my son."

Ace blanches.

 _'I knew it. It freaking_ knew _he'd ask, the old_ _ **bastard –'**_

He bristles, and fury, white hot and deep, sears him from the inside out – he's no one's _son_ he'll _never be_ _ **anyone's**_ _son –_ at first. Then fear quickly takes hold, gripping him tight with icy claws that bite into his heart.

Whitebeard has no idea what the hell he's asking. Sure, Sabo and Luffy are fine and dandy, _they_ don't have a lineage that'll get them killed. But Ace is – he's _Roger's_ child, the blood of Whitebeard's _enemy_ flows through his veins. If he ever found out, he'd sooner have him tossed overboard. The kind, welcoming (loving, caring) facade will vanish, and he'll be no different from the rest of the world, all of whom want Roger's bloodline erased –

No. No way in hell. He'll stay for Sabo and Luffy's sake, but he'll _never_ join this crew.

(He _can't.)_

Ace presses his lips together hard, fighting a scream, fighting the sudden and all too familiar sting behind his eyes. He snarls a curse and turns on his heel, stomping away, leaving the confused old man to watch him go, slinking through the crowds.

He doesn't stop until he's ducked behind a shack selling wood for the bonfire, and he sinks into the snow, trying and failing to get his breathing under control. The heat his body emits melts the snow around him until there's nothing but a patch of grass beneath him. Knocking his new hat to rest at the base of his neck, Ace bites his lip hard and digs his fingers into his hair. Music and laughter fade into nothing, his erratic heartbeat loud and thundering in his ears.

Don't think about dancing, don't think about Mei or Whitebeard or his offer or the _cursed blood running though myveins_ _ **don'tthinkaboutit –**_

Biting his lip doesn't help, even as the blood trickles down his chin, so he pulls back the sleeve of his coat and goes for his left arm and bites down hard, sinking his teeth into the flesh of his forearm. He doesn't stop, pressing harder and harder until –

 _'Oh. My arm's bleeding.'_

He lets go and sinks back against the shack, letting the pain wash over him a little while longer. When the urge to cry and the memories pass, he grabs a clump of snow to wash off the blood, hissing through his teeth – he remembers to spit out the remnants before he stands, shakes off lingering snow off his coat and steps back into light, the music and cheer, a smile on his face.

He doesn't go back to Whitebeard. He doesn't join the dancing or the singing, content to stand by and watch.

(And when the party winds down around midnight, his brothers sweaty and grinning tiredly from ear to ear as they head back to the ship to collapse in their cabin, Whitebeard's offer haunts him until he finally falls asleep.)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N~ Hello everyone! THIS CHAPTER - GOSH IT GAVE ME HELL!** **A few things - at this rate, I've given up on a word/page limit. Sometimes my chapters will be long, sometimes they'll be short. Chapters run away along with my words, so, expect different chapter lengths XD Also, this chapter is kind of fillery, so please excuse the...uh, fillery-ness?**

 **A few mentions -**

 **rynn - Thank you so much! tbh I take inspiration from other interpretations I've seen of the characters and make blend that I hope feels real, but thanks!**

 **missNOBODYa. - Thanks! And yes, they'll find out eventually ;)**

 **Wordlet - Whitebeard slipping was my freaking favorite part to write I swear XD Don't worry, Ace will come around soon...after a liiiiiittle bit of angst :)**

 **gayastronaut - THANK YOU! And yeah, Sabo is a gem to write, love this blondie!**

 **VisitorNo.18 - Alas, poor Ace. And Mei does play a role in this, best keep an eye out :) Thanks for the review!**

 **CanIHaveAHug - ghxzdfghdfjshg your review gives me life XD**

 **Sorry if I can't reply to everyone, but on with the chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

They're woken early the next morning, white light streaming through the frost coated porthole, by Thatch's unbelievably cheerful voice outside their cabin door informing them of the special breakfast he's prepared for the crew in light of Christmas Day. It's a mystery how any man, pirate chef or no, can possibly be this energetic so early. Ace almost resents it, but he's found hating Thatch for almost anything to be a fruitless endeavor.

Irritation comes easy, though. He tosses a pillow at the door when the bastard starts singing _carols_ at the top of his bloody lungs; the man only laughs before taking his leave.

Luffy nearly forgets to put on his day clothes in his haste to get out the door, eager as always for food. Sabo is forced to get out of bed, grumbling all the while about the cold and hyperactive baby brothers, to grab the idiot before he can escape through the door, stuffing him into some clothes, his coat and boots. He wraps the scarf around Luffy's head and face just to make the kid laugh, muffled behind the knitted garment.

Ace, on the other hand, has no desire to get up. No desire to do much of anything as a familiar numbness washes over him, rendering him useless. He lies on his back, limbs sprawled across the bed in the absence of two bodies, and he stares blankly at the ceiling. The bite on his arm itches, still red and raw. The swelling on his lip has gone down, but he can still taste blood on his tongue.

Sabo's indulgent chuckles and Luffy's squeaks as he bounces on his toes fade into silence, until all Ace can hear is his own heartbeat, the echoes of the laughter and music of last night, the flames prancing in time with the dancers, his brothers falling over themselves giddily, Whitebeard's smile and his offer, repeating, repeating _repeating_ –

" _Join my crew, and I will call you my son."_

Ace's fingers twitch. Lips twist in a mute snarl as he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, begging the voices to stop. Son. Father. Those words, those _goddamn words_ why did he even _say that just stop it stop it make it_ _ **stop**_ _**damn you Whitebeard**_ _–_

"Ace? _Ace."_

Ace blinks back into reality with a startled snort as he lifts his head from the pillow. Luffy and Sabo are staring at him now, innocent confusion and concern creasing respective features. They're dressed and ready, though Sabo has yet to fetch his coat and scarf while Luffy is all bundled from the neck down to brave Tundra's biting chill.

Sabo tilts his head to one side, curls falling over his eye and the expanse of scars. "You okay, bro?" he asks. "You zoned out a little there. Aren't you gonna get ready? Thatch already left so we can't keep him waiting –"

" _Yeah –_ uh yeah I'm – I'm up, I'm up," Ace hastily replies, maybe _too_ hastily if the shift in Sabo's gaze isn't telling. Mismatched eyes narrow, flicking from Ace's too-bright smile to his abused lower lip, wandering down the length of his arm –

Ace quickly sits up, making a show of shuffling off the bed to search for his boots and clothes for all that he so desperately wants to stay in bed and avoid the crew, avoid Whitebeard and Christmas and the whole damn world with it. "You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up in a minute. Promise."

Luffy grins, easily complying. But Sabo's eyes are near slits as he glares at the older teen, a glare that promises a long 'discussion' that Ace is already dreading. For now, they've got a big breakfast to devour and, if Luffy has his way (and he will), snow to play in.

Once Ace is dressed and suited up for the weather – the cold doesn't affect him as it does others, his devil fruit providing more than enough warmth, but Izo had worked so hard on his coat so he'll wear the thing – they head up to the decks. Trudging through the inches of snow having coated the ship overnight, Ace sends a silent prayer to a god he's long stopped believing in that the events of yesterday never come to light again. If it comes down to it, he'll avoid the captain altogether.

(Son of his enemy or no, what can Ace possibly offer an _Emperor_? They've plenty of elite fighters already, and Whitebeard's power is said to be devastating. All Ace can do without killing someone or setting the ship aflame is light a few candles, make pretty fireflies and _dance._ His power is, after all, 'impressive', used to entertain, seduce, inspire awe and for all to _fear._ He's otherwise useless, the spawn of a monster, a former _slave_ that should never have been born to begin with. He doesn't _need_ a father; he has Luffy and Sabo to fill the void. They're his whole world, his light and reason, his everything. Nothing else matters...)

Gloved fingers find his and hold tight. Ace jumps only a little, whipping his head and regarding the owner of the hand. Sabo doesn't look at him, eyes fixed on Luffy trotting happily ahead of them. "I won't bother asking," he says softly, "because I know you won't tell me, even though you _know_ it hurts us to see you like this and play it off as nothing when we want to _help_ you."

Ace's jaw clenches, as does his heart, at the blatant admission. Of course Sabo knows, he always does, intuitive in ways akin to Luffy and ignorant in others. But still – "Sabo...I –"

Sabo shakes his head, fingers tightening. "Don't apologize. When you're ready to talk, we'll be there. If you don't wanna talk, ever, we'll still be there. That's what brothers do. Even if the big brother is a dumbass." He shoots Ace a smile, exasperated and yet affectionate, forgiving...and a twinge of hurt, sorrow that Ace knows _he_ put there, today of all days.

So Ace squeezes back, sliding closer until their shoulders press. "...thanks, 'Bo," he says. It's all he can say, because his twin won't accept an apology. An explanation, absolutely. But...

 _'Not yet.'_

Explanations or decisions of any kind can damn well wait. For now, with Sabo's presence grounding him to the present, he feels...better. Sort of. Even finds himself excited for Thatch's breakfast rather than wasting the day locked in their cabin and avoiding Whitebeard.

Luffy's impatient grunts recapture Ace's attention, banishing the mantra and every irksome thing plaguing his mind, and he and Sabo hurry after their baby brother, hand in hand.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Thatch is...torn. Between being impressed and utterly _terrified_ by what he's seeing.

Having rung his neck in a fit of righteous indignation (literally and figuratively, neither of which were at all pleasant) at discovering the chef's breech in her instructions, Whiskey's finally cleared the boys for eating regular portions; the trio have yet to show signs of illness regardless of what they've eaten or how much, Luffy especially – being made of rubber and energetic as he is, Whiskey theorizes the boy most likely burns more calories than the average human with everything he does no matter how mundane. No wonder he'd tried his hand at those apples; his normal metabolism must be incredibly fast. And that's just _Luffy._ Who knows what Ace or Sabo are capable of.

So with permission from the head nurse (not that he'd needed it, clearly) the kids are free to eat as much as they please. But watching them now...he almost regrets telling them that. _Almost._

On the one hand, they still love his cooking, of which he and his division have poured their hearts, souls and holiday spirits into. On the _other_ hand...

"Holy hell," Rakuyo breathes, watching from the commanders' table as Ace, Sabo and Luffy all but _attack_ their food like starving animals. Their pile depletes at far too rapid a rate to be healthy or even _possible_ without someone choking. And _they're still going._

"Are they really gonna eat _all_ of that...?" Namur asks, scales turning a sickly shade of green as he watches Luffy shove an entire leg of lamb, bone and all, down his rubbery throat. Ace and Sabo merely spit out the bones and charge onward with determination one might find on a battlefield.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Izo excuses himself from the table and hurries to the deck to heave what he's eaten over the side of the ship. Jozu, Blenheim, Fossa, Kingdew and Atmos watch, fascinated yet disturbed as the rest of them – they're big men with even bigger appetites to feed their ridiculous metabolisms, and Thatch knows even they don't eat nearly as much in one sitting.

This...this is insane. Absolutely bonkers. How can three little bodies carry so much _food? And how the ever-loving_ _ **hell**_ _are they still going?!_

Haruta, Jiru and Vista have already started the betting polls with their ogling siblings, waiting to see who'll stop first, how much they'll eat, which one will inevitably throw up (Thatch prays they don't; Whiskey will have his balls). The boys are far too enraptured by their food to notice, or if they do, they certainly don't seem to care much.

Marco and Thatch observe the chaos, bets and bits of food flying, crew-mates coming and going to be sick in the sea or bring a crowd, some cheering the children on, some looking torn on whether to involve Pops in some way before things get out of hand if they haven't already. The two commanders trade a glance.

"...I'd better make another list," Thatch says, his voice holding the slightest quiver as sweat trickles down his brow. He'd thought he'd have an issue concerning his stock when all he'd had to worry about were puppy eyes. But never could he have fathomed such...terrifying _lunacy_.

Arms folded, Marco nods. "Good idea, yoi. In the meantime, I'm gonna feed the fish."

"Feed the –?"

Marco dashes from the galley in a blur of blond and purple, green in the face. Thatch watches him go and huffs. 'Mighty Phoenix' indeed.

Well, despite the dent it'll put in his pantry and their treasury, this certainly sets the holiday, and the boy's first Christmas experience, off to a pretty good start.

(But the banquet, he knows, will be a _disaster_.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

There are things in this world that you learn at a young age, simple things, that will stick with you forever; like how meat is the most important food of all, vegetables be damned no matter how much Ace and Sabo like to insist otherwise. Or how crocodile meat is best cooked over an open flame in the middle of the woods under the stars, or served as a stew or soup in bed on sick days. Or, perhaps most importantly, when there's snow, one _must_ build an army of giant snowmen before the day is done.

And that's exactly what Luffy does.

After breakfast, the best and biggest Luffy's had in so long that he'd fought tears once they'd eaten their fill without being sick, Luffy all but begs his brothers to go out and build snowmen by the forest where the snow is thickest. The resistance on their part is hilariously brief, and they let the pre-teen haul them off the ship, plunging into the blanket of endless white; a blank canvas just waiting to be painted. (Or in this case, sculpted? Built? Whatever.)

Luffy's snowman is a humble thing with stones for eyes, buttons, his lopsided but cheerful grin and mismatched sticks for arms. Mr. Snowman stands tall and proud, perfect in his imperfection. Luffy loves him, and would hug him if he didn't end up crushing him.

Ace's snowman is bigger than Luffy's with crooked branches for arms and eyebrows of square-shaped pieces of wood he'd plucked off a tree. Mr. Snowman the Awesome almost looks evil, but if Ace's grin is anything to go by as he plops his cowboy hat on the snowman's head, that's probably the idea. Luffy still loves him.

Sabo's snowman isn't even a man. It's a dragon head. A perfectly shaped dragon head sculpted completely from snow with teeth and _horns_ , a creation of which he stands by with pride. Luffy adores it. Ace stares at it long and hard and pins Sabo with a glare. "Show-off," he mutters. Sabo sticks out his tongue, wholly and unrepentantly pleased.

Eventually, most of the Whitebeard's, including all fifteen commanders, dismount the ship to partake in the divine artistry of snowman construction. Luffy spots some really good ones, others not so good but made with _conviction,_ and some that have Sabo turn an incredibly bright shade of red and slap his hands over Luffy's eyes; "You're _really_ not old enough to see those, Lulu," is all he gets as an explanation. Luffy doesn't get what's so bad about two giant circles on the ground, but he lets it go.

Instead, he occupies himself with showing Jozu and Blenheim how to make perfect snow angels. Izo helps Sabo and a few others build an igloo, of which Sabo comfortably squats inside with great enthusiasm. Ace and Haruta manage to bury Jiru up to his neck and fashion a mermaid tail where his legs should be before running off, leaving the poor commander to dig himself out, cursing after the cackling duo.

(Luffy watches Ace from a distance, watches him dig about in the snow and build and play and _laugh_ with abandon, and pride swells within him. There's not a trace of his foul mood from this morning, nor are the shadows in and under his eyes hindering him from living fully in the moment, from letting go and having _fun._

Ignorant he may be to most of the demons residing in his brother, Luffy's still so _proud_ that he's doing his best to fight them off rather than let them swallow him up, even if it's hard. Ace is strong, though. He'll pull through.)

As is tradition whenever there's even half an inch of snow on the ground, a snowball fight soon ensues. Thatch and Haruta get the ball rolling literally by tossing several at the back of Jozu's head and Kingdew's ass. They promptly retaliate, snowballs the size of large rocks _pelted_ at the smaller commanders with no mercy. After that, all hell breaks loose. Barriers and forts are built, territories are claimed and no one is safe from the vicious onslaught of snowy projectiles.

Luffy is put in a big team with commanders Thatch, Haruta, Rakuyo and Fossa for his range and his 'Gum-Gum Slingshot'; quite effective for launching multiple balls at once. Sabo hunkers down with Namur, Jiru, Izo, Blamenco and several others behind a wall of snow by the forests' edge, said blond impressively skilled with a branch to bat away oncoming fire from opposing teams.

Ace, Marco, Curiel, Atmos and Kingdew bombard the less fortunate ones brave or foolish enough to step into No Man's Land with frightening accuracy. Thatch and half a dozen others curse Ace for melting the snowballs with short bursts of fire before they can hit him, calling him a cheater. Ace's grin in response is bright and full of mirth.

Luffy will gladly take several snowballs to the face if it means he gets to see his brother smile like this, have _fun,_ to laugh and play and _let go_ for once as he stands side by side with Marco, beaming fit to burst as he lands another solid hit on Blamenco's head.

It's truly liberating just _being_ here in the center of such marvelous absurdity, playing in the snow with _pirates_ , snowballs raining down from every angle, laughing wildly all the while with tears stinging Luffy's eyes because this feels like _home_ and _family_ –

"Ah _shite!_ Here comes Pops!"

Luffy blinks. A shadow, far bigger than any he's seen among the crew, looms over him and his team. The men and women around him freeze, whimpering in fright as they slowly turn and look up. Confounded, almost uneasy with the sudden charge of fear leaking into the air, Luffy turns – and quickly understands.

Whitebeard towers over them, a snowball the size of a _boulder_ aloft in one giant hand. His grin is a wide and wicked thing, a glint in his golden eye that spells their doom – but lacks the same evil that had once cowed Luffy. No, Whitebeard carries no such ill will, his grin tinged with genuine frivolity, so the fear in Luffy's veins isn't quite as intense.

(It's still _there,_ though, because there's a _giant ball of snow_ in Whitebeard's hand.)

The captain chuckles darkly. "You punks call those pellets _snowballs?_ I'll give you a snowball! _"_ he declares, his voice booming over the cries and protests and pleas for mercy, pleas for _restraint._

"C'mon, Pops, _please!"_

" _Have mercy on us!"_

"You'll bury us, Dad!"

"The gods are watching! _You'll be judged for this!"_

Luffy doesn't gape, doesn't move or attempt to run, doesn't scream or plead with the captain like the rest of them (because he can't, not verbally anyway). He stands and stares with wide eyes, and decides to accept his impending 'doom'. Being buried under snow doesn't seem too bad, no matter how much his mind and body screams at him to ' _move, run or you're going to die you can't die here you need to_ _ **run**_ _'_.

This is just a game, the Whitebeard's way of having a good time. Nothing to be afraid of.

" _LUFFY, RUN AWAY! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, LITTLE BROTHER!"_ Sabo cries from behind his protective barrier, waving his arms as if preparing to take flight. He just might've, if not for Namur restraining him, telling him how it's too late, Luffy is already doomed. Marco is grinning hard as he holds a frantic Ace back with solid arms locked around the teen's waist.

The fact that neither of his brothers are really struggling with any sense of terror or urgency despite all this, eases Luffy's mind and brings a grin to his lips. They know Whitebeard won't truly hurt him. It's all fun and games, giant snowballs and all.

Still...it _is_ a giant snowball. Whitebeard's crazy.

The old captain seems to relish in the fact, and grins harder. "Farewell, my children!" he booms, and brings the mound of snow down. Luffy turns to his brothers as the rest of his team _shrieks,_ grinning toothily and holding up two fingers in salute. And then – _BOOF!_

(Under the freezing heap of pure white, Luffy can hear the laughter and cheers from the opposing teams along with the groaning and spluttering of his own. Ace and Sabo's laughter ring the loudest of all. Teeth chattering as he's dug out from his frozen prison with helping hands, Luffy's smile positively glows.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Morning fades into afternoon, and the brawls eventually wind down.

Warding off the cold with Thatch's 'world famous' cocoa (it can't be, surely, but Luffy thinks it should) Luffy decides he wants to explore the forest next. The town is as bright and lively as the night prior, the people already into the full swing of the holiday that it's almost tempting to join them. But there's something... _otherworldly_ about the forest beyond the shores and town, something calling to Luffy, begging to be explored.

Maybe it's the call of Adventure, the same that had lured him to Shanks' ship the day the pirate first dropped anchor at Foosha. Or at least, that's how Shanks explained the feeling often surging through Luffy's veins. Every great pirate has a sense, a _desire_ for adventure no matter where it leads you. It'll be worth it, Shanks had said, to heed its call and let it guide you, so long as you have the will to keep pushing forward; if not, then the life of a pirate is no life for you.

(And what kind of future Pirate King would Luffy be if he ignored such a call?)

After much insisting, Sabo decides to accompany him ("to keep him out of trouble," he'd said, like Sabo is _never_ prone to getting in trouble, the liar) to explore, under instructions by Marco to be back at the ship before sundown. Ace turns down the offer to come along, tired from the fights and the cold and everything. Understandable, but odd. Ace never used to be too tired for _adventure_ of all things _._ His 'Adventure Senses' must be broken. Oh well, there's always next time.

Hand in hand, the blond and the raven hurry past the igloos and the few snowmen still standing in the aftermath of battle, and delve into the trees and endless white.

It's eerily silent the deeper they venture, the crunch of snow beneath their boots their only companion. Luffy feels no fear, however; excitement hums within him, baby browns roaming the celestial wintry landscape with unending wonder. Spears of ice hang from leafless branches, the trees themselves thick and reaching high into the grey clouds, snow coating every inch of every surface as new flakes drift lazily from the skies.

Critters of different sizes, from rabbits that blend seamlessly with the snow to birds with bright chests and nests full of twittering chicks, are barely seen as they make themselves scarce in the presence of two humans, frightened yet curious of the large interlopers. Luffy... _feels_ them, somehow, no matter where they hide. Almost _hears_ them, though they make no sound; endless whispers of something in his ear that he can't quite understand. But he knows they're very real, not a fabrication his mind conjures to fill the silence of the land around him. Weird...

"It's like a winter wonderland," Sabo whispers, his soft smile an awestruck thing. "I've never seen anything like this, not even back on Dawn..."

Luffy nods. Dawn was beautiful and all, Luffy's home for as long as he can remember, but not even they had winters as beautiful as this, snow immaculate and so pure _white._ It was never this quiet, either; there was always _something_ , the rushing river or the howling winds in harmony with the wolves, birds chattering among themselves in the trees. Luffy doesn't mind the silence, here. Contained in a world of its own, no dangers in sight, the silence is peaceful, welcoming _–_

 _ **"** **RAAAAAAAAGH!"**_

And brutally shattered in the next instant with a mighty roar.

Luffy and Sabo _shriek_ as one, high-pitched and ragged terror, the younger boy leaping into the older's arms as a body explodes from behind a mound of snow, a terrible monster with jagged arms of broken branches and the head of a grinning, evil snowman – wait...

" _Ace!"_ Sabo squawks indignantly, glaring at their older brother as he pulls off Mr. Snowman the Awesome's head from his shoulders (alas, anther one bites the dust...er, snow) laughing hard and loud, bent over and pointing at them. Doesn't seem so tired _now,_ lively and grinning like he is, the jerk. Still, at least he's having fun.

Sabo, on the other hand _–_ "What the hell's wrong with you!" he cries, setting Luffy back on his feet to punch Ace, still laughing, in the shoulder. "I thought you were taking a nap on the ship, you _liar!"_

"I did!" Ace wheezes, straightening with a final, _very_ satisfied sigh and a similar grin splitting his freckled face in two. "I did, I swear I wasn't lying – I really did feel tired, but I came to find you once I woke up. Didn't think you'd be this far into the forest already, though."

"It's been an hour at least since we left the ship, Ace."

"Whoa, _what?_ I was asleep for an hour? You're kidding! Was I really _that_ tired?"

Luffy tunes them out with a roll of his eyes, letting his mind wander and his eyes roam about the scenery some more. He wants to go further, deeper into the forest where the trees are at their thickest, where the lake Thatch spoke about is. Maybe it's frozen enough that they can go skating. But Marco had given them an order, the only one anyone's given them the whole time they've been aboard, to be back before sundown. It's an order that Luffy, despite himself and...everything else, is willing to follow. But the call of _adventure –_

He freezes.

Something niggles in the back of his mind, a sharp prick of _something_ that has him turn where he stands, slowly, brown eyes narrowed and searching.

 _What was...what is that? A voice...?_

There's distress in the air, thick enough that Luffy can taste it on his tongue, heavy and desperate and louder than any voice he's heard and yet Ace and Sabo don't seem to hear it even over their bickering. Luffy takes a step, and another, and another – the 'voice' gets louder. It echoes from deep within the forest, deeper than Luffy knows his brothers are willing to let him travel with sunset already fast approaching.

The 'voice' and the pressure squeezing his core gets worse, harder to bear or ignore. The person, creature, _whatever_ it is, is panicked, hurt... _afraid._ Luffy can _feel_ it, as though their pain is his own, his right wrist aching suddenly as he rolls it.

 _...caught in a trap. A human trap. Teeth of metal piercing flesh and bone, blood seeping into the snow._

Luffy's breath hitches.

 _Help._

In the next instant Luffy is running, tearing through the snow and trees and ducking over fallen logs and low branches. The 'voice' gets louder with every step, pounding in his skull in time to the rapid beating of his own heart. His brothers shout after him, confused or annoyed or panicked, but he doesn't look back, doesn't stop. Every fiber in him screams at him to go, to _help,_ to do something, drowning out his brother's shouts and even the call of adventure. This...this feels more important.

Luffy bursts through a thicket of frozen bushes, and freezes. Wide eyes stare, horror brewing in his stomach, at the massive animal writhing and yowling in agony, its right paw trapped in the metal jaws of a bear trap.

The animal is covered from the tufts of black hair on the tips of its ears to the stub of its tail in voluminous fur, brown spots dancing along its back that fade into greys and whites traveling down to the furry belly and it's massive paws. Its whiskers twitch above the lip as the creature hisses and spits, attempting to claw off the trap piercing its leg and only making it worse in its panic.

Luffy stares. It...looks like a cat. A very big, very _hurt_ cat with massive fangs that gnaw at the trap in a vain attempt to free its paw. It pays Luffy no mind, not even when the boy takes a cautious step closer.

It _does_ notice when Ace and Sabo barrel through the bushes in a flurry of snow, leaves and muttered curses as they round on Luffy, accusations and worried queries firing rapidly from their flapping gobs. The cat's head jerks up, ears and whiskers twitching, and puts a stop to their chatter with a piercing, though agonized, hiss. His older brothers whirl, wide-eyed, taking in the sight of the animal for the first time.

Sabo gasps, horrified. "...is...is that a _cat?"_ he rasps, eyes drawn to the blood soaking into the snow and the contraption responsible for the wound. His eyes narrow, disgust gleaming within. "Pochers," he snarls.

"Lu," Ace tears his eyes from the animal trying to appear as threatening as possible despite his predicament, and turns to Luffy. "How...how did you find this thing?" he asks.

Luffy looks up at Ace, brows pinched with worry. 'I heard him,' he signs. Both older teens regard him oddly, so he quickly elaborates – 'There was...a voice, I think, and it sounded hurt and scared, so I followed it here.'

His brothers don't seem to understand, trading bewildered glances over his head and shrugging. In truth, Luffy barely understands this himself, any of it – the voice wasn't so much as someone literally screaming pleas and pained curses, but...an echo of _something,_ a calling like that of adventure only far more dire, demanding his whole attention, demanding _all_ of him...

It's all incredibly confusing. Luffy's brain hurts just thinking about it. But it can wait for another time, not while a poor animal, helpless and bleeding, needs their help. So he tugs on Ace's coat sleeve, eyes wide and imploring. Lips twisting with mild reluctance, Ace looks between him and the snarling cat swaying now where it stands. One last look at Luffy, and then at Sabo who undoubtedly shares Luffy's sentiment, is all it takes for him to cave.

He sighs. "...alright. But be careful." Luffy and Sabo beam at him. Ace rolls his eyes like he's trying to pretend he doesn't have a heart of gold, failing miserably.

They slowly approach the cat. He snarls and spits violently and tries to get away, hindered by the trap and the chain securing it to a nearby tree. Luffy's not deterred as he and Sabo kneel a safe distance away. Ace steps that little bit closer, his expression indecipherable even to Luffy, but his silver eyes are soft and kind. The cat makes to raise his free paw, fangs bared.

"Shhhh, it's okay," Ace whispers, low and soothing like he does after one of Luffy's nightmares, one hand reaching out. "You're alright, you're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you..."

Ace's hand presses carefully against the cat's side. A moment passes, and the hissing eventually dies as the cat moves his head to cautiously press his nose against Ace's hand, sniffing. Ace doesn't even flinch at the proximity of the glistening fangs, or when the cat starts to lick at his fingers.

It's then that Luffy remembers how cats like warm things. No doubt Ace is emitting enough heat to put the frightened animal at ease, enough to shuffle closer and press his other hand between his twitching ears, gently stroking and offering hushed assurances all the while. Soon enough, there's a low rumbling if not weak purr, the cats eyes mere slits with exhaustion and content. Ace cracks a startled grin. "Somebody's comfortable," he says, and then gestures Luffy and Sabo to approach, slowly.

Getting close as he dares, Luffy reluctantly squashes the urge to rip the godforsaken trap off, tear it to pieces, and _then_ find the bastards responsible and tear _them_ apart as rage boils his blood – poachers aren't so different from slavers, the only difference being their 'catch' is dead when it's sold off, not that it's in any way a kinder fate. Instead, he shuffles aside while Sabo and Ace get to work. The cat's lying on his side now, all but sinking into the snow, too weak to do any more than pant weakly, tongue lolling, and let the humans gently manhandle him.

Sabo sheds his scarf, setting it aside and then carefully wedging his gloved fingers between the teeth of the bear trap and the bleeding mass of paw. The animal lets out a whining huff that Ace is quick to hush, carding his fingers through the fur. Drawing a breath, Sabo starts to pull the trap apart, gritting his teeth with effort.

(He's weaker than he was when they were younger, but he's by no means feeble. They'd made him carry heavy cargo through the mud and tunnels back _there,_ working tirelessly regardless of weather, crates and barrels on his back and more. His hands and fingers are strong, calloused and firm, capable of killing a man bearing loathsome intent and the keys to their freedom...but against metal teeth, Luffy worries.)

 _'Screw it,'_ Luffy decides, and shuffles forward again to help Sabo. Together, one cursing under his breath and the other fighting whimpers as metal pricks into his rubber flesh, the trap breaks open with a loud clank, freeing the mangled paw at last. Sabo offers Luffy a tired, thankful grin before grabbing his discarded scarf and wrapping it around the wound, tying it tight enough to hopefully stop the flow of blood. Ace rubs his palms up and down the cat's neck, hoping to ease the pain.

Luffy's sure he's not imagining the dampness in the animal's eye that looks like tears.

With that, Sabo then grabs the trap by the chain, careful not to touch the jagged teeth. Standing, he spins on his heel and slams it against the tree it's chained to with all his might, shattering it. Fury burns in his eyes, a far cry from the glaring ice Luffy has grown accustomed to, as he tosses its remnants aside. "Bastards," he hisses, glaring at the metal pieces speckled with blood. Luffy and Ace grunt in agreement.

Maybe the cat does, too, or maybe it's because he's trying to stand up. Ace quickly backs off, tugging Luffy by the wrist to pull him behind him as the cat staggers back on all fours, bringing up his injured leg at the last minute with a pained hiss as he tentatively licks at the limb. He stares at the scarf around his paw, then raises his eyes to meet Ace's. Ace stares back, unflinching.

Beautiful green eyes blink slowly at the freckled teen, and then the cat hobbles away quick as he can into the snow and trees. The boys watch him go until he disappears into the sea of white.

Ace blinks once. "...well. That happened," he says. Sabo nods with him.

Luffy giggles, tugging Ace's arm twice to get his attention. Ace meets his gaze with a raised brow. 'He said 'thank you, warm human'' the younger boy signs, giggling harder at the look Ace gives him, silver eyes wide.

"W-Wha – _w-warm human_?" he splutters. Sabo laughs, and gets a face full of unspoiled snow for his troubles.

Before another snowball fight can commence, Sabo spits out the snow and notes how late it's gotten, time having lost all meaning in the process of freeing a captured animal. They retrace their steps, Luffy's hands clasped in both Ace and Sabo's to keep him from running off again (or so they claim), leaving the bloodied snow behind and hurrying back to the ship. Casting one last look over his shoulder as his brothers pull him along, their chatter over the loss of Sabo's scarf fading into silence, Luffy wonders...

The cat's free now, thanks to his brothers. Injured, but alive and free. Even so, how's he gonna hunt, eat, with one paw out of commission? Does he have anyone to help him, friends or family, like Luffy does with his brothers and the Whitebeard's? Or is he all alone in the ice and snow? Maybe that's how the poachers found him and set the trap. Because he's alone...

Luffy frowns, tightens his grip on his brothers hands, relishing in their safety, warmth and closeness; he's lucky, having Ace and Sabo to lean on when he needs them. Not everyone can say the same, not even animals...

 _He must be lonely. No one to go to when he gets hurt, and too scared to stay with us even after we saved him. Kind of like how we were with the Whitebeard's..._

The boy stews over this all the way back to the Moby, where Marco and Izo are awaiting them on the shore. By the time they step onto the deck, a grand feast already laid out as the dinner party commences, light and laughter all around, Luffy's plan is set with no turning back. The only issue is how he'll bypass the watchful eyes of his older brothers...

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Growing up in High Town, Sabo had never cared much for Christmas. Not its background, its practices, or the way his parents and their cohorts chose to celebrate it. The last Christmas he remembers was a few months before he ran away the first time, when he was five years old; the ballroom was massive, glimmering lights and fancy gowns and lavish food and gifts everywhere he looked, pompous laughter and mindless chatter a tinny sound to his young ears.

Of course, he'd hated it.

This, however...this is something else entirely.

It's no different from any other pirate party he's ever heard of, really; drinks and food abound, plenty of music and drunken dancing (it's _barely_ past sunset, why are so many people already drunk?) but with the addition of beautiful lights and flashy décor that would never touch even the gardens of his parents' house back in High Town, how freely the crew express their joy with reckless abandon, stomping feet and shouting the lyrics to whatever song the musicians play...the contrast is jarring.

Of course, he _loves_ it.

Luffy is busying himself with the banquet, of course, stuffing his bulging cheeks until he can barely close his damn mouth, pirates cheering him on like the semi-responsible bunch of wonderful bastards they are. From the railing, Sabo watches on and laughs with the rest of them when the little idiot eventually falls over, his cheeks too heavy for the rest of him to support any longer. Ace is there to help him stand with an exasperated and futile attempt to warn him against doing this again; Luffy merely grins at him, promising nothing, and swallowing the mountain of food in one mighty gulp much to the collective shock and horror of the onlookers, reminiscent of their reaction to breakfast this morning.

 _'Best get used to it,'_ Sabo thinks with a grin hidden behind his hand. _'They've given_ Luffy _permission to eat as much as he pleases. There's no going back now.'_

The rubber boy slings himself quite literally across the ship to join in on the dancing, slabs of meat and chicken drumsticks shoved in his pockets, leaving Ace to watch him go with a shake of his head and a look far too fond to be truly annoyed. He rejoins Sabo by the railing soon enough, pilfering two drinks from the table in the process. He offers Sabo a tankard of what looks like rum but tastes like grape juice, and they settle against the railing to watch the crew go at it.

It's thoroughly entertaining, almost endearing – almost enough to have Sabo jump right in and dance with them, sing and shout to the starry skies above, a declaration to the heavens and all who'd told him he'd never be free from the chains that bound him to two different hells, each bearing their own horrors.

Instead, he stands by Ace. He knows his brother won't join in on the binge eating or drinking or the dancing...especially the dancing, for reasons the freckled teen believe to be true whilst others would deem otherwise. Alas, Ace is as stubborn as they come when his mind is made on a matter. Because of this, and because not even dumbass older brothers deserve to be alone on a night like this, Sabo scoots closer until their shoulders are pressed together. Ace jolts a little but just as quickly relaxes against Sabo as they watch the pirates do what pirates do best, simply existing together in the moment.

It's nice, Sabo decides, feeling a grin worm its way across his face. The atmosphere, the boundless cheer in the air...it's nice. Damn near lulls him to sleep on Ace's shoulder, the peace he feels welling up inside him. Ace chuckles, like he's read Sabo's mind, and shifts to accommodate him. The warmth his body emanates to battle the chill of the night doesn't help matters, and Sabo finds his eyes sliding shut against his will. Sort of.

The peace is – not shattered, but cracked at the arrival of Thatch, Izo and Rakuyo, the Fourth Commander calling a hearty greeting as they approach. Sabo shakes himself and promptly straightens, but doesn't leave Ace's side – he's really freaking warm, his presence a comfort. "Evening, commanders," he greets in return, getting grins and chuckles in response. Someday, he swears, he'll learn to ditch the formality born from both his former prisons.

It's then Sabo notices both Izo and Rakuyo have something behind their backs, their smiles impish and wholly eager. Brows furrowing, Sabo shares a glance with Ace; the older shrugs back.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," Thatch says, grinning from ear to ear, "what's Christmas without presents, right?"

The boys blink at him. "What?" they chorus.

"I thought so," Thatch sweeps his arm in a dramatic arc, as though presenting Izo and Rakuyo as they step forward. Izo takes another step in Sabo's direction and pulls out a wrapped box from behind his back. The wrapping is simple yet still glistens like gold in the light, and Sabo knows instantly that Izo wrapped this one personally. Rakuyo turns to Ace bearing his own offering, but Sabo hasn't the chance to see it when Izo steps into his field of vision.

"For you, dear," the Sixteenth Commander chimes, and Sabo balks.

" _M-Me?"_

The box is pushed into his arms before he can think to protest. "Yes. Didn't you hear Thatch? 'Tis the season for giving and whatnot. I noticed you had your eye on these at the markets yesterday, so Rakuyo and I went ahead and bought it for you." Red lips stretch into a wide smile whilst Sabo's jaw drops, mind reeling. The cross-dresser winks. "Go ahead. Don't worry about the paper, I've got plenty to spare."

Sabo gapes a moment longer, swallowing hard, before obediently tearing off the paper and opening the cardboard box. He nearly drops it an instant later as he stares at its contents.

A black top-hat...and a pair of rectangular goggles, blue tinted and shining in the lantern lights. The very same he'd seen at the stall last night. They'd...they'd noticed. And they...

 _They bought it...for me?_

Izo's saying something, concern ringing in his soft voice as he bends slightly to meet his eyes, but Sabo barely hears him, doesn't dare tear his gaze from the gifts in case it's a dream. A wonderful dream that takes him back to the day he'd scavenged in heaps of trash with bloody, inexperienced fingers only to come across such ironic yet irresistible attire he'd be a fool not to don, taking a piece of aristocracy and making it his own, his first step to achieving the freedom he'd sought...

It's only when he dares to blink that Sabo realizes his eyes are filling with tears, hands and shoulders trembling. A few roll down his cheeks and drip onto the goggles nestled safely in the box...a box of gifts for _him._

"Sabo?" Izo leans a little closer, perfect brows pinching together. "Sabo, are you –?"

He's moving before he can think otherwise. He sets down the box and rushes Izo, barrelling into the taller man and wrapping his arms around his waist in a fierce embrace. Izo freezes, arms held up, and Sabo buries his face into the folds of his kimono. He bites his lip to quell the threat of sobs, though it does next to nothing to stop the tears. " _Thank you,"_ he croaks, "thank you thank you _thank you."_

(It's stupid, he knows deep down, to be this happy over a set of goggles and a hat that to most would be a mere luxury at best. But just like Luffy's straw hat was a treasure to the little boy with dreams of a kings and freedom, his had been a statement of a sort, a middle finger to the nobles who'd tried and failed to mold him into an image of their likeness. The day he'd lost them, along with his freedom, had _hurt_ more than it should. Those bastards took their freedom, their dreams and childhood, and every little thing in-between.

And the Whitebeard's are giving it _back,_ in a sense. It's...it's almost too much, and he's _so damn grateful..._ )

He feels Izo chuckle and drape his arms around him in return, holding him close. "You're welcome, dear," he says, running one hand through his blond curls, "the pleasure is ours."

Belatedly, the rest of Sabo catches up with him, and he stiffens, eyes wide. He's hugging Commander Izo. He's _crying_ on Commander Izo. Oh _hell._

He unwinds his arms and backs off, blushing hard, bowing at the waist. "I'm sorry!" he squawks, less out of ingrained habit for once. Ogling crew-mates laugh good-naturedly, including Thatch (not so subtly sniffling and wiping away tears, again). Izo merely shakes his head, still smiling with all the warmth of tamed flames. Lifting his head, Sabo offers a shy, if not a little wobbly smile in return.

"Nice goggles, Goldilocks."

Speaking of flames...

Only a little indignant, Sabo rounds on Ace with a retort that quickly dies when his eyes fall on Rakuyo's gift...the decorative beads, blood red and glistening like rubies, encircling his older brothers' neck.

They almost match the beads on the brim of his godawful hat, only slightly darker in shade. But that's not what sends yet another pang of nostalgia deep into his heart, nor is it why Ace's throat bobs when he swallows the very real threat of tears even as a teasing grin stretches across freckled cheeks.

Sabo matches his grin. "Nice beads, Dadan."

Ace blinks, balks, blushes and snaps his head away, pouting hard in a fashion not too dissimilar from Luffy. "S-Sh-Shut the hell up," he snaps without heat, his voice cracking. Sabo just laughs at him, dispelling the tears at last and ignoring the questioning gazes of the commanders as he bends, picking up the hat and the goggles. It takes a bit of fiddling, but the goggles come to rest along the brim of the hat like they were meant to be, and soon the blond dons the hat itself, setting it on his head with a flourish and a grin wider than the seas. It feels great. _He_ feels great, so damn great.

 _'There,'_ he thinks. ' _Almost perfect. Now all that's left is to show –'_

Sabo pauses. Blinks. Furrows his brows and listens hard.

The cacophony of music, laughter and cheers are still going strong with no signs of stopping despite the late hour. Nothing amiss, nothing at all to put Sabo on the edge and churn his stomach with dread. And yet –

And yet there's one thing he _doesn't_ hear. One thing, one person, he doesn't _see_ or _feel._ At all.

Lips pressed into a thin line, former mirth dying in the face of an unsettling revelation, Sabo slowly turns to Ace. "...hey," he says, swallowing the urge to be sick as Ace faces him. It might very well be unfounded, a product of his emotional high...but a bad feeling is a _bad feeling,_ not something so easily ignored, not since that day five years ago. And so –

"...where did Luffy go?"

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N~ Hello dear readers! A little earlier than usual (it's 6:00pm over here, meaning I'll sleep on time, possibly XD) and what better way to celebrate April Fools day than to gift you all with the fluffiest chapter to ever fluff? :3 Not gonna lie, though, this chapter was hard to write, I don't know why XD  
**

 **A few mentions -**

 **rynn - No, no he can't XD Thanks for the review :)**

 **surgeonlaw - Tysm! I'll admit, making Luffy mute _does_ have it's challenges, but I'm glad it's working so far :) **

**Wordlet - I think we can ALL benefit from cats, they're the bestest things ever to exist besides food :D Thank you for the lovely review (and yah, I can't help the way I describe Sabo's anger - something about his eyes and the way he smiles is so _chilling,_ sorry if it's a little repetitive XD)**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - eeee thank you!**

 **KindOfChilling - Thank you! Don't worry, we'll be getting to Shanks eventually (it'll be a few chapters, but it _will_ happen, and it'll be worth the wait XD)**

 **Jordansdevil - Cliffhangers are such FUN XD thanks for the review!**

 **CanIHaveAHug - *attacks you with more feels* PERISH! XD**

 **Sorry if I couldn't reply to all of you, but I appreciate every one of you :) Hope you enjoy this _very fluffy cute_ chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **(...oh, btw, did I say fluffy chapter? Well...**

 **April Fools ;D)**

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

Luffy hums a tune to himself as he trudges through the growing inches of snow, the gift wrapped up in a thick towel and hugged close to his chest in an effort to keep it warm. His eyes are fixed on the path ahead, keeping his mind off the steaming piece of meat that he so desperately wants to take a bite out of. He won't, though, because it's a present, but it's ever so tempting.

The forest is dark even in the light of the crescent moon, a glaring contrast to the wonder and magic of earlier; the branches are crooked arms with talons of dripping ice reaching for him as he passes, the breeze harsh and bitter in the absence of sunlight. But the stars are beautiful, hundreds of tiny diamonds glittering in the inky black skies, and the sounds of merrymaking and music from both the brightly lit town and the Moby echo behind him. Luffy has no reason to be afraid, not even in the middle of a deceivingly empty forest. Without his brothers.

Something whispers in the back of his mind, voice low and dripping venom, that he _should_ be afraid. This is the first time he's willingly left their side, deliberately sneaking under their noses. Their absence has always been a terrifying thing; nothing good happens when his brothers aren't near to draw him into the circle of their arms, a harsh truth he's come to learn. But it's something he has to break free from, now, unlearn it to move on, to grow and get strong enough to chase his dreams on his own, without his brothers' protection.

He loves them more than anything in this world. They keep him safe and sane, let him know and see how truly _loved_ he is by someone in this wicked world. But he can't always lean on them. They have their own dreams, which they can't pursue with Luffy under their wing.

(He doesn't want to... _can't_ be the reason they never achieve their goals. He can't be the reason they hurt, the reason they suffer through hell after hell after _hell_ in his stead _..._ the reason they _die,_ because he's weak. He can do this one little thing by himself. He _has_ to. And he'll be _fine_.)

Shrugging the thoughts away with a physical jerk of his shoulders, Luffy hikes onward, eyes darting about the oppressing darkness in search of his 'Secret Santa', whatever that means. Thatch explained it briefly, but Luffy stopped listening after the 'presents' part.

He's already passed the bloodied plot of snow and shattered metal where they'd last seen the big cat, delving deeper through the winding, endless trees. He has high hopes, though. An injured animal can't get too far; he'll have to rest before he exhausts himself, meaning he might've made a temporary den nearby. If cats even _make_ dens, that is. They should do, otherwise where on earth do they sleep? The trees certainly don't look too cozy.

A flicker of _something_ , pricking at his senses, feral and fierce, is his only warning.

Luffy stops, looks over his shoulder. The cat stops, too, hunkered low and poised as though ready to leap at Luffy, lips peeled back in a snarl revealing jagged fangs.

The boy frowns – rude, attacking from behind – but smiles just as quickly as he spins on his heel and steps forward. The creature recognizes him now, for he doesn't hiss or pounce or cower – he takes a limping step forward to meet Luffy halfway. Sabo's scarf is still wrapped tight around his injured paw; the bleeding stopped long ago, the scarf utterly ruined with the congealed remnants, but it's for a good cause. Izo won't be too mad if he ever finds out, right?

Luffy crouches, sinking a little in the snow with a squeak. He unwraps the present he'd stolen – er, _acquired_ from the banquet table and holds it out. He giggles when the cat's pupils go _wide_ , leaning forward and sniffing the leg of meat. The smell is alluring, enough to have even Luffy drooling, and several times on the way here he'd had to stay his ravenous mouth from taking a bite out of someone else's' present. For once, he doesn't mind sharing the meat. It's a sure-fire way to makes friends, after all.

Still the animal hesitates, sniffing the meat cautiously. "Mmn!" Luffy grunts with his biggest, warmest smile. He fights shivers and a sneeze as the wind picks up, snowflakes fluttering around him. He'll have to get back to the ship before he catches a cold or his brothers realize he's gone (if they haven't already) but he can't leave until the cat accepts the gift. It's the least he can do. No one deserves to be alone, or hungry, on a night like this.

The cat finally locks his jaws around the meat. Luffy lets it go and watches with unbridled glee as the animal digs into his present with gusto.

A satisfied sigh leaves the boy as he sits on the ground proper, wet pants be damned, and rests his chin on his knees, arms hugging his legs to his chest. He lets his gaze drift upwards to watch the snow drift from the infinite sea of black cluttered with stars and clouds. He smiles, a small but awed thing, basking in the silence. Odd, he never used to like the silence. Silence meant he was alone, vulnerable, exposed. But he can appreciate this, existing in the moment of serenity.

(He understands, now, why Dadan used to yell at him and his brothers to shut up. Peace and quiet is nice, sometimes. Better still, he's got company.)

It's a shame the Whitebeard's probably won't let him take the cat with them, despite their lenience with a lot of what he and his brothers do on the ship like pillow fights and eating as much as they want. The crew already has a big old dog and a bird (to which they relentlessly tease Marco about for whatever reason), more than enough pets on a pirate ship.

Besides, he's a wild animal, not something to be tamed by the hand of man. And this island is his home. What right does Luffy, or anyone, have to take him from this place? What right does anyone have to take anything, or anyone, away from where they want to be, from the places and people they love...?

Lost in his thoughts, a pang of longing in his heart that starts to ache, he doesn't feel the pressure against his hand right away. He blinks, looks down, and sees the cat's head licking the back of Luffy's fingers in an attempt to lick off the lingering flavor of meat (already devoured save for the bone) or as a gesture of thanks. Luffy assumes the latter and grins big and wide, unhappy thoughts and yearning pains fleeing as he runs his hands through the fluffy mass. The animal chuffs in appreciation and proceeds to climb onto Luffy, putting all his weight on the boy until he's pinned in the snow on his back, his face assaulted by a slobbery tongue. Luffy scratches between his ears, giggling, and the cat bumps his forehead against Luffy's scarred cheek.

Guess Luffy's plan worked after all. He's made a very affectionate new friend, even if he can't bring him aboard the Moby. Wait 'till Ace and Sabo hear about this, they'll be so _jealous!_ Unless they're mad out of their minds at him for taking off, but still _–_

" _Hey!"_

They freeze.

The cat scrambles off Luffy, hissing violently at something ahead. Luffy sits up, wiping saliva and snow off his face with his arm, and he turns. A group of unfamiliar men, five of them at least, maybe six, stand by the circle of trees and darkness, covered from head to toe in dark attire fit for braving the elements and hiding among them, haphazard markings on their exposed faces. Their expressions are unfriendly and foul, creased with anger, but that's not what gives Luffy pause. He's dealt with angry people plenty.

But he sees the guns and spears and traps carried without much care or thought, and he frowns deep and hard.

 _Poachers._

One steps forward, a big man with broad shoulders and a twirly red mustache under his nose to match his slicked hair, a frown deep enough that it might be a permanent mark on his face. "You there," he calls, holstering his gun with the relaxed ease of a practiced shooter. "Are you the one who freed that animal?"

His expression carefully blank, Luffy rises to his feet, keeping the cat behind him, and nods.

It's the wrong thing to do, evidently, for the charge of anger in the air spikes. "That animal is _our_ prize to claim," Mustache Guy announces with all the authority of privileged royalty, and Luffy's blood boils at the ugly reminder. "You had no right to interfere with our business, boy."

"Yeah!" another calls, round in the face and belly and missing a few teeth. "It's a rare find, we'll make _loads_ outta selling the fur alone! Hand it over, kid!"

The roar of agreement ringing loud throughout the night, Luffy very carefully doesn't shake, doesn't shift or turn to run as his body demands him. His new friend is behind him, angry and afraid and hurt, and Luffy _will not_ leave him with these bastards to die for no good reason.

He steels himself, takes a breath, and shakes his head.

Another wrong move. Mustache Guy glares, growling low from the throat. He slowly lays a hand against the butt of his gun. "Beg your pardon?"

Luffy goes and flips them a bird. Several indignant gasps resound, and it's almost funny. _That,_ they understand.

"We're warning you!" another voice shouts, and suddenly they're cocking their guns and unsheathing knives, all trained on Luffy. "Out of the way or we'll shoot you, too!"

Luffy lips twitch against a smirk, and flips them a double bird.

Mustache Guy is the first to snap and lift his gun to fire. The initial ' _bang!'_ is thunderous and jarring, but Luffy doesn't falter and spins, his back to the men, shielding the animal as the bullet pierces his coat, stretches the skin and then _flings_ right back at the poachers. They scramble and trip in the snow to duck out of the way.

Luffy grins wide and cheeky at their befuddlement and the cats' confused 'meow' as he scratches him between the ears. Who says rubber is a useless power?

"T-That – that brat –!" Round Belly cries, a shaking gloved hand pointing at Luffy. "He's some kind of _freak_!"

"He's eaten a devil fruit, fools!" Mustache Guy yells as he struggles to his feet, face full of snow where he'd done a nose-dive into the earth. "Our bullets won't work!"

"Seriously?! The hell do we do, then?"

"If he reaches the town, he'll give us away to the authorities. Grab them!"

Luffy's smile falls, and a familiar flavour of dread and fear sits sour and heavy on his tongue.

 _Not good._

He pushes at the cat in a bid for him to move, to run, as the poachers gather their wits and weapons. The cat starts to limp away as quick as he's able, Luffy following close behind at a run. Their guns might have no effect, but they have knives and snares at their disposal. Last he heard, rubber and sharp things don't mix. And there's too many of them – he's not strong enough to take on one yet, let alone six, weakened over the span of five long years into something some might consider _normal._

He can't fight them, doesn't have to. He just has to run, run and _keep_ running. He can do that.

Gritting his teeth hard enough to crack them, Luffy wills his body to _move_ , branches whipping him in the face and dancing snowflakes clouding his vision. He can't see the poachers, but he can hear them loud and clear, their voices ringing loud in his ears like war cries –

And suddenly Luffy is back _there,_ bare feet pounding against slick concrete through the dark underpass of the castle, bloodthirsty guards mere inches behind him as he runs to where he prays is freedom. But the warmth and security of his brothers is gone, unreachable, because he'd been _stupid_ enough to leave the ship without them.

He has to get back to the ship, get back to his brothers and the crew and Whitebeard before the guards – the _poachers,_ get him, before they –

Something whips through the air, and then Luffy's legs are entangled. He trips and falls with a startled cry and skids face-first into the snow, spitting out frozen chunks of leaves and dirt. He looks down at the restraints; weighted bolas, trapping his booted ankles together no matter how hard he struggles and tugs. If anything, his feeble attempts only make it worse.

A chorus of cheers erupts as the poachers emerge from the darkness. Luffy's blood freezes in his veins, heart seized with terror all too familiar.

 _They've got me..._

The cat is already way ahead, but pauses to look back at Luffy; he can feel the creature's hesitance, intent in his twitching limbs to flee or assist, indecisive and helpless. Luffy makes the choice for him and shakes his head hard, shooing him away with his arm. " _Mmn!"_ he grunts, desperate and afraid, but only partly for him. The cat wavers in place a moment longer before turning its stubby tail and running off into the night, leaving the boy behind.

Fighting the haze of terror and flashes of cells and whips and chains before his eyes, Luffy attempts to crawl his way to safety, fingers digging and clawing through the powdery snow, but it's no use. He _knows_ it's no use, he's been caught, it's over, and the poachers are so close and he's _scared_ he has no idea what they'll do to him and _he's so scared Ace Sabo –_

" _HEL –!"_ He slams a hand over his mouth. His body trembles.

" _Good pets don't growl, or cry, or speak! I don't ever want to hear a sound from you!"_

The princesses words, her nasally voice whispering sweet threats in his ear, the gleam of murder in her eyes when he'd shouted at her and _Ace's back_ in the aftermath of a punishment meant for _Luffy,_ silences his cry for help with spindly fingers around his throat. Wide eyes brim with tears.

He can't do it. He can't _do it._ He can't speak, shout for help, can't do anything or others will pay the price like everyone _always does_ , but then he'll die and leave his brothers behind so he's damned either way oh _why_ did he leave all by himself why didn't he just _ask_ for help why _why_ _ **why**_ is he still so _**useless –?**_

" _C'mere, you!"_ A rough hand digs into his hair and two others grab his arms. They haul Luffy out of the snow despite his struggles, and drag him back into the forest.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Five minutes into the search, and a single gunshot shatters the night.

Ace whips around, eyes blown wide. The pirates scattered around him jump, startled, hands itching towards their weapons. Seconds pass, the new silence suffocating.

Nothing emerges from the forest, not one soul – but one would have to be deaf not to hear the soft clamor of voices echoing from within the forest.

A snort on Ace's left, disgusted – "Hunters, yoi," Marco grunts, almost to himself, his frown a foul thing as he glares into the trees. Something flickers along his shoulders and dies before Ace can identify it, but he swears for a moment there was _fire._ "Probably scored a catch. They do know hunting in this part of the forest is illegal, right?" His shipmates and fellow commanders bear similar scowls, murmuring in accord as they put their weapons away and resume the search.

(Ace briefly recalls what the blond had said concerning poachers after Sabo approached him; apparently, rare and endangered species of mammals are preserved and bred on this side of the island, while the open hunting grounds for food and such are further north. The cat they'd come across, left to bleed to death in the snow, was a product of an injustice, unseen and unheard by the locals...)

Ace shakes his head and forces himself to focus. If it's just hunters, Luffy should be safe; they wouldn't bother – wouldn't _dare_ – attack an unarmed child for no good reason. And Luffy's bulletproof. He'll be fine.

Sabo's already gone ahead with Fossa and Namur to where Sabo remembers seeing the cat last – where Luffy no doubt scampered off to because he is and always will be a reckless _idiot_ with a too-big heart that bleeds for people and animals alike – and unless a gang of inferior criminals truly wish to die by the hands of pirates, they'll think _thrice_ before aiming a gun at Sabo. His twin will be fine, too.

(His heart, beating hard and fast against the confines of his ribcage, tries to convince him otherwise in its attempt to also put him out of commission. His head screams accusations that stab and twist like knives and burn hot like magma through his chest – _'you shouldn't have split up,_ ' they say, _'should've kept an eye on your little brother, you're supposed to_ _ **love**_ _him and he's gonna_ _ **die**_ _out here because you got too comfortable around careless_ _ **pirates**_ _you know you can't trust_ **anyone** _–'_ )

Ace roughly shakes his head again, jostling the hat hanging behind his neck by the chord, casting away the poisonous thoughts and screeching voices with it, and takes a breath. Calm down. _Focus._ Luffy will be okay. Sabo will be okay. He shouldn't have let the kid out of his sight like he did, but he did, and now he's wandering the forest alone but they'll _find him._ Everything will be _okay._

Ace tails after a small group with Marco, Thatch, Jozu and several others to scour the outskirts nearer to where they've docked. He shoves his hands into his pockets to stifle the impulse to bite his thumb.

Once news of Luffy's disappearance reached the more sober members of the crew, a search was instantly staged, celebrations all but forgotten; several hurried into the bustling town to ask around the locals, others into and around the forests, whilst the rest remain on the ship in case Luffy manages to slip past the search parties. Even Whitebeard (whom Ace has been not-so-subtly avoiding all day) has joined the operation, scoping the trees with sharp, amber eyes.

Ace risks a glance at said captain from the corner of his eye, standing tall and proud in the bitter cold, free from the tubes and patches pumping, evidently, to keep him alive. The benevolent smile of the father he and his crew claim him to be is nowhere in sight, silent and steady in the midst of apprehension brewing among the scattered pirates, a pillar of strength for all to lean and depend on.

For the first time, he truly embodies the spirit and strength of a pirate captain, a man who's name is renowned and feared throughout the world. His aura cracks the very air with the beginnings of unbridled anger...and a twinge of worry that leaves Ace baffled and yet doesn't.

The old man has gown incredibly fond of Luffy – the entire crew has, no doubt. And despite his...issues with the man, it sets the teen at ease, strangely, knowing the Strongest Man in the World is looking for his bumbling idiot of a baby brother. Even though none of them are a part of his crew, he has no reason to even _care..._

(But he does. And it rocks Ace to his core.)

 _'Purrupurrupurrupurru! Purrupurrupurrupurru!'_

The small group jumps at the screeching Transponder Snail on Thatch's hip. Ace won't admit he flinches, but he does, and his meager attempts to hide it only earn him a chuckle from Jozu and a grin from Marco that's only half teasing. Thatch quickly unhooks the snail and brings it to his lips, answering with a click. "Thatch here. What's up, Namur?"

" _Bad news, I'm afraid,"_ Namur's voice crackles on the other end, dashing Ace's hopes to pieces. " _You heard that shot just now? Well, Sabo freaked out and ran off towards_ _the sound. Tried tailing him but we lost track of him in the forest."_

Ace stares at the snail, jaw slack. _You've gotta be freaking_ _ **kidding**_ _._

The teen clenches his jaw, black bangs falling over his eyes as he lowers his head. "Dammit Sabo, you _idiot,"_ he curses. What the freaking hell is he _thinking,_ running off alone? The poachers wouldn't shoot a harmless kid like Luffy, and even if they did he's freaking _bulletproof_ for god's sake, Sabo _knows_ this and he's _–_

An arm snakes around his shoulders and pulls him close, firm and grounding. Blinking hard, too stunned to push away or taste the few specks of blood along his lip, Ace looks up at the chef. But Thatch's eyes, hard and troubled and barren of the cheer they've come to associate with the Fourth commander, are trained on the snail in his free hand.

It's new, slightly jarring, and yet befitting of his status as a commander of the Whitebeard pirates, a glaring reminder should Ace dare forget whom they're sailing with.

"We'll send Jiru and Marco after him. He'll be fine," he says, squeezing Ace's shoulder, and Ace lets himself be held, just this once. He won't deny that he just might need it. "Any sign of Luffy yet?"

" _Not a one. Haki's rusty thanks to all the booze,"_ Fossa answers gruffly, _"but he can't be too far in. Before he up and left, Sabo thought he might've – woah, what the hell –?!"_

Thatch stiffens, the arm around Ace tightening. "What? What is it? Fossa, you guys alright?"

" _Whu – yeah, yeah we're good. Just...a cat or somethin', a lynx I think, just ran past us like – hold on a sec, ain't that Sabo's scarf?!"_

Ace only has a second to process this – a cat, Sabo's scarf – before the very creature he and his brothers freed only hours prior bursts through the frozen flora with a bellowing cry that turns every head in the area. (Ace half swears he hears Marco _yelp)._

It pauses just outside the barrier of trees, glowing eyes darting all over until they land on Ace and _stay_ there. Ace stares back, perplexed. Thatch hangs up the snail and looks between the two of them, free hand slowly moving towards one of the blades on his belt. "Hey, now..."

The cat charges straight for Ace. Thatch shoves Ace behind him to face the animal and thrusts a hand out, the other clenching the hilt of his sabre in warning. The cat skids to a halt and bears its fangs, swiping its good paw at the commander and barely missing his fingertips. It doesn't come any closer but continues to yowl, eyes on the teenager. Pirates regard the creature curiously, some ready to intervene, others looking at Ace like they want to pull him back to safety.

He'd find their concern oddly endearing, if not for the awful feeling brewing in his gut.

This is the same creature that would sooner claw at its saviors, mistrustful of humans that it would prefer to die than accept their aid. For it to willingly leave the safety of its home to seek _Ace_ out of all people...it doesn't quite inspire assurance. And the way it's _still_ yowling, like a plea, a beckoning...

 _Something's wrong._

"Where the hell did this thing even come from?" Thatch breathes, then pauses, eyes lured to the vibrant blue and patches of red secured around the foreleg of the vociferous animal. "Holy – that _is_ Sabo's scarf. Ace, did you guys –?"

"We found him in a trap. Sabo used his scarf as a tourniquet," Ace replies absently, stepping around Thatch to approach the lynx and ignoring the chef's whispered warnings. The growling stops, and the lynx paws at Ace's shin twice before turning and quickly limping back towards the trees. It stops and turns again, almost _glaring_ when it finds Ace rooted to the spot, growling loud and irate as though yelling at him – _'get your ass in gear!'_

It's all the convincing he needs.

"Hey, Ace – Ace _wait,_ where're you going?!"

Ignoring Thatch's confused cries, echoed by Marco and the rest of their party, Ace takes off after the lynx. He doesn't bother waiting for the crew, doesn't stop, doesn't look back lest he lose sight of his guide; he's impeded by his wounded leg, but fast enough and adept atop the snow that Ace has a hard time keeping up. This is his domain now, and without him, Ace is lost.

His thoughts are hopelessly frazzled with the turmoil of the last half hour, and now he's desperate enough that he's following a _cat_ through what was once a winter wonderland. But a bad feeling is a _bad feeling,_ and this cat has no damn business charging into a crowd of pirates to seek out one human unless it meant _something_.

It wants Ace to follow. _Needs_ Ace to follow. And something tells him Luffy would tell him to.

Lunacy be damned, Ace follows the animal and prays he isn't led astray.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Wrists red and raw from his feeble attempts at struggling – the ropes are thick, the knots tight and stubborn – Luffy finally opts to keep still, eyes averted from the glaring stares of his 'guard', and focus on breathing. It's hard enough as it is with the gag stuffed in his mouth, ropes digging into him where he's bound against the frostbitten tree, hands behind his back; he doesn't need to work himself up any more than he has.

(He swears it's gotten colder. Rubber or no, he can barely feel his fingers.)

Shutting his eyes, Luffy tries to breathe through his nose, banishing the memories and the searing pain, both real and imaginary, ignoring the semi-panicked chatter of his captors and the freezing winds seeping into his bones; the bastards had torn off his coat, scarf and gloves to search for weapons before tying him to the tree, leaving him in only his long-sleeved shirt and pants, thick but doing little against the frigid temperatures.

Exposure aside, they won't let him die or kill him here. Not when they know he has people – _pirates –_ looking for him; he can hear their shouts, indistinct and muffled, down by where they've docked the ship. No doubt they'll venture deeper and find the hunters soon enough.

He'll be fine. The Whitebeard's will find him, beat up these hunters, and he'll be okay. His brothers won't have to get involved, won't get hurt. He'll be _okay,_ just breathe, _I'll be okay, it'll be okay..._

(It almost works.)

"What the hell do we do, boss?"

Luffy reluctantly cracks an eye open, then the other. Round Face is pacing back and forth, making grooves in the snow, eye and fingers twitching. "This brats' one of the pirates, or at least traveling with 'em!" he cries to his leader's back. "If we let him go, he'll blab to the town and we'll get arrested, but if we kill him those bastards'll track us down and kill _us_! We're screwed!"

"And we have no way of contactin' the others, either!" his supposed 'guard' drones, scrubbing a weary hand over his squinty eyes. "I _told_ you the cat ain't worth it, but you _had_ to send Travis, Vic and Colin* out to catch the damn thing anyway. Now we're three short of our strongest guys, and we're up against goddamn _pirates,_ all 'coz of a punk-ass kid!"

The twelve-year-old smirks under the gag. It's a wonder he's even afraid of these idiots; they're nothing to the Whitebeard's, nothing to bandits or even to pirates like Bluejam, washed up and crazed with greed and lust for wealth. Nothing compared to _them,_ either.

(And yet, Luffy still got caught. And they're hunters, trained and skilled in tracking and killing, armed to the teeth with traps and knives. Perhaps he shouldn't be laughing.)

Mustache Guy hums and strokes his chin, heedless of his impatient subordinates. The longer he keeps his silence, the more Luffy's trepidation festers as he watches the man carefully, clenching benumbed fingers. The cold makes it difficult to focus, the mounting anxiety desensitizing the... _other_ sense, like Ace's, that helps him read people in ways his brothers can't. It's all he can do to stand upright, keep his eyes open, the urge to sleep slowly creeping along the edges of his vision...

The head hunter turns with a swish of his coattails, facing Luffy, and steps forward. Luffy glares and doesn't flinch when a gloved hand tilts his chin upward. The hunter regards Luffy shrewdly, turning the boy's face this way and that, considering him. Luffy squashes the burning desire to gnaw through the gag and the man's fingers because this is too familiar; rough hands grasping his face, examining him like he's _property –_

A grin steals the hunters' face, and he lets Luffy go. There's a glint in his eye, far uglier than anything he's seen since _back then,_ almost identical, and a shiver runs through the boy that has nothing to do with the winter chill. "He's got an interesting devil fruit, right?" he says, his men gathering close. He smirks, a knavish and vicious thing. "I wager he'd fetch a fine price if we sold him to the right people. Much more valuable than one lousy cat, right?"

Luffy freezes. The world goes silent, his vision a fog of white and spots of swirling black.

...sell him?

They're – they're gonna...they'll...he's – they're gonna _sell –_

 _A windowless cell void of light, soiled tiles and suffocating walls, the only warmth provided by two bodies shielding him from what lies beyond the bars. Whips and chains cracking against the bare skin of his spine, unceasing despite his cries and sobs. A collar dotted with diamonds strangling him, a giggling young girl tugging the leash and pulling him along like an animal, petting his hair, calling him 'Spot' or pet, thing,_ _ **mine,**_ **filthy little slave –**

Luffy trembles all over, breaths ragged and hitched through the gag, ice in his blood. They're gonna sell him. They're gonna sell him and chain him up like a _slave_ again –

The dam bursts, and Luffy _screams_ through the gag.

The hunters and their leader lurch back in shock, but Luffy pays them no heed. He tugs and writhes in his binds with all he has, uncaring if he burns or slits his wrists or breaks the tree because he has to break free, has to get away run away run _run_ _ **run**_ because they're gonna _sell him off_ again they're gonna make him a _slave_ and he'll be all alone he _can't go through that hell again he_ _ **can't**_ _he can't he'll DIE HE'SGOINGTO_ _ **DIE –**_

"Shut him up!" one of the hunters hiss. "He'll give us away!"

"Hold the runt still!" Mustache Guy takes out another gun, loading it with a bushy-tailed dart. "I'll put him out, then we bag him and get out of here."

"But what about the others–?"

"Forget them, just _hold_ the brat!"

There's hands in his hair, on his face and shoulders as the two hunters grapple with the boy. Luffy doesn't care if he loses clumps of hair or even a hand, he _needs to get OUT,_ needs these bastards to stop _touching_ him he doesn't _want to be touched,_ doesn't wanna be _sold not again –_

 _'Ace, Sabo, please,'_ he prays, begs, the click of the safety of a gun a dull sound in his ears. _'Please, please, help me I don't wanna go back please please –'_

Footsteps crunch through the snow. A branch snaps, ripped off a tree.

Moustache Guy pauses, whirls. "What? Who goes –?"

 _ **THWACK!**_

Sabo bursts into clearing in a shower of snow and sends the hunter sprawling with a branch to the face.

The other two turn and freeze, gawping at the blond in their midst as he sticks the landing and on booted feet. Shadows cast over his face under the brim of a new top hat – one that has Luffy's heart ache with familiarity – Sabo lifts his head, and his glare is frigid, vowing _retribution._ He bears his teeth in a feral growl, gloved fingers gripping the branch tight enough to splinter it –

" _Get away from my little brother!"_

His snarl is low and animalistic, a shadow of the brother Luffy loves – and yet it's the best thing Luffy's heard. Tears sting his eyes anew, and a pang of nostalgia rocks him where he stands – the image of a boy no older than ten smashing through a wooden hut flashes before his eyes, pipe brandished, goggles glistening in the sunset along the brim of a black top hat, a ragged scream that demanded the pirates perished where they stood...

 _Sabo's here!_

(Luffy should be worried, he knows. This side of Sabo – the _switch_ in his brain that turns him into this person devoid of mercy or empathy, born from years of terror and _need_ to protect his family regardless of the means isn't something Luffy wants to see, doesn't want that look on his face, doesn't want the aura flowing off him in waves of black like miasma. But he's in no position to snap him out of it, nor is it the time. Honestly, Luffy thinks with little remorse, these guys deserve whatever they get.)

"You – you," Round Face splutters, fumbling with his gun as Sabo, no hint of fear or hesitance in his gaze – he knows he can win this – strides towards the paralysed hunters, "you little _bastard!_ Do you know who you're dealing with –?"

He gets a branch straight to the teeth, sprawling into the snow to join Moustache Guy. Squinty Eyes squawks, barely has time to raise a knife – Sabo ducks under the wide swing easily, and the hunter meets a similar fate as the branch smashes and _explodes_ against his face, now sporting a very broken, very bloody nose with splinters of wood digging into the flesh of his cheek.

It's over as quickly as it started. Sabo is the only one standing, chest heaving. Silence endures...

And when he whirls on his heel to face Luffy, the blood-lust and shadows have vanished, leaving behind open fear and relief all rolled into one as the blond tosses the now useless branch aside. " _Luffy_ ," he gasps, and he sounds so _exhausted,_ voice cracking. "A-Are you okay, Lulu? Tell me you're okay."

Blinking away tears, Luffy nods and tries a grin behind his gag. Whatever gods led Sabo here and gave him the strength he needed, Luffy thanks them over and over and over, and then some when Sabo's face splits with a wobbly but oh so genuine smile that Luffy adores.

 _There's my brother._

And as Sabo heaves a weary sigh from the soul and shakes his head, muttering about 'stupid baby brothers' and 'god you scared the hell outta me' as he makes his way over, Luffy's heart finally settles, knowing he was right; everything will be fine now, because Sabo's here. For all that Luffy hadn't wanted him to come at first, he's never been happier to –

 _ **BANG!**_

Blood spurts as a bullet rips into Sabo's right shoulder. Luffy watches, numb with horror as Sabo _screams,_ crumbling to the ground. His hat rolls off his head, goggles speckled with blood.

 _...no..._

 _No...no, this isn't happening..._

Blanching, trembling violently, Luffy stares at his brothers' prone form half buried in the snow, crimson blooming like a rose against the canvas of white as the blond curls into himself, clutching his shoulder, gritting his teeth against a whimpering cry and failing. The patch of blood grows and grows until it's seeping into the tips of Sabo's hair, and bile rises to Luffy's throat.

 _No...No...Sabo,_ no _..._

Luffy lifts his head at a dark chuckle from the circle of trees. Three more hunters emerge from the shadows, unnoticed in the melee. The biggest one, bearing a grin oozing wild mirth, blows smoke from his smouldering gun. "What'd I tell ya?" he says to his smirking companions. "Easy as pie."

They're the ones Mustache Guy sent off after the cat. They must've heard the commotion – Luffy's screams – and doubled back. A torrent of emotions surges through him, too many too quickly, all at once, and all he can do is tremble.

He...he shot Sabo. He _shot_ Sabo.

 _No. No, no, nonono, Sabo,_ _ **NO!**_

Moustache Guy stirs, then, rising unsteadily to his hands and knees and then his feet, forehead oozing blood and dripping pink snow down his crooked nose. Blinking rapidly, his eyes dart from Sabo, stifling whimpers in a frozen pool of red, to the three men on the outskirts of the small clearing. The smile that splits his bruising face is baleful and cruel, his deep chuckle even more so. "Nicely done, lads," he huffs, straightening his rumpled attire. "Impeccable timing."

The shooter dips his head once, still grinning. "Not a problem, boss. Couldn't find the cat, but we'd better get movin'. If we could hear the racket y'all were makin' then I'm sure as hell those pirates could, too." He tips his chin at Luffy and and Sabo. "You still gonna bag these kids or...?"

"No. Not worth the trouble." Mustache Guy stumbles drunkenly over to Luffy, stepping over Sabo's body without a downward glance. He draws a glistening knife from his belt. "Better to cut our losses and hide the bodies."

Luffy can't move, can't even struggle or tug against his binds. Sabo's not getting up, clenching his teeth to ward off _tears,_ and it's all he can do just to get to his knees, panting wetly.

No one's ever shot them before, not at the Grey Terminal, not even _back there._ Sure the threat was always there and very, very real, and Bluejam had come close, but this is...and Sabo's still not getting up, not strong enough to get back up and keep fighting, and there's _so much blood_ his brother's blood is _everywhere –_

 _And it's all my fault. Because I left. Because I screamed._

There's a cold press of metal against his throat. Mustache Guy grins down at him, all gentlemanly poise gone in the face of the wicked shine in his semi-conscious gaze. Luffy stares back and quivers, feeling the knife press that little bit harder against his jugular. "Not so tough now, are you?" the hunter croons. He presses harder, and Luffy feels the rubbery kin start to break –

" _W-Wait!"_

All eyes fall on Sabo kneeling in the snow, the black fabric of his coat soaked with blood still oozing down the limp appendage. He's panting, weak and laboured, features sickly and pallid, like the mere act of talking pains him _._ And yet – "P-Please," he breathes, letting his forehead drop against the snow in a bow – he's _bowing_ again. "Please...don't hurt him. H-He's my brother, don't hurt him..."

The goons by the trees don't bother to smother their laughter. Mustache Guy cocks a brow, but doesn't draw the knife back. "Oh? And why should I listen to you, boy?" he probes. "You took our prize and attacked my men. What right do you...?"

He trails off then, eyes narrowed, considering. He takes Sabo in his entirety, the fight and life draining out of him. His smile returns with all the malice and venom of a snake. "...very well," he says with a shrug that's not at all nonchalant and doesn't try to be. "I'll consider letting you live, water under the bridge and whatnot. If, of course, you apologize for your meddling. _Beg_ for your life, boy."

Luffy _feels_ the instant in which Sabo's switch flips, and then – "I'm sorry," he says into the snow, eyes clenched shut, one arm limp at his side and the other digging fingers into the frozen earth. "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry," he says, over and over like a prayer, forced and so terribly frightened and weak. The hunters laugh at him, at Luffy, at their victory –

"I'm sorry. I-I'm s-sorry –"

Tears streaming down blotchy cheeks, Luffy hangs his head. ... _no, Sabo._..I'm _sorry. So, so sorry._

A guttural roar silences the laughter. A voice follows it, loud and _enraged –_ _ **"LUFFY! SABO!"**_

– and suddenly the world is on _fire,_ a plume of flames bursting from beyond the trees, encircling them. The hunters rear back in terror, Mustache Guy tripping over his own feet with an ungodly wail to escape the blaze devouring the snow, leaving nothing but grass. The man who'd shot Sabo shrieks in agony as the flames consume him gun and all, his companions abandoning him to his fate as he writhes on the ground. Burning flesh assaults Luffy's nostrils and rolls his stomach.

(Luffy and Sabo are left unscathed; not a spark touches even the fringes of their clothing.)

The sweltering heat burns all it touches, sizzles the ropes binding Luffy to the tree until they snap and fall away at last. Luffy pitches unsteadily and falls to his knees, tearing off the gag, panting and shaking so hard he can't even crawl to Sabo's side though he _knows,_ now, that they're safe, the fire won't hurt them...

Ace and the cat leap through the wall of flames an instant later, landing between the remaining hunters and his brothers. Luffy looks up as his eldest brother squares his shoulders, back erect, silver eyes ablaze with the same rage that fuels the dancing inferno at his command, shaky though it is in such violent bursts.

The hunters, the two big ones cowering behind Mustache Guy with the ones Sabo knocked out slung over their shoulders, tremble from head to toe under the ferocity and murder agleam in the eyes of a wild animal and the freckled teen. "They're – they're all _freaks!"_ Mustache Guy wails, pointing at Ace. "You – you're a _monster!"_

Ace's eye twitches.

(Ace always deems himself a monster, a demon for the blood he carries. It's learned, ingrained in his heart by the horrible people who'd answered the question "if Gold Roger had a son?" with cruelty and mockery, people who didn't even know Roger or the boy they were talking to. In the light and shadows cast by the brim of his hat and the barely tamed image of hell he's created, he certainly must look it, now. He might even take it as a compliment.)

A pressure builds and builds in the air, thick and heavy and suffocating, and the wall of fire steadily depletes. His brothers' rage does not. Smouldering ash is all that remains of the shooter – not even the gun is spared. The cat hisses and spits at the hunters, and Ace dips his head –

" _Get._ _ **Lost."**_

Some of that pressure leaks out of him, the men's knees quaking as sweat pours down their pallid faces. In seconds they're running away, whimpering and crying into the night without daring to look back. The flames eventually splutter and die completely, leaving a perfect circle of charred grass and ash where snow – and a man – used to be. The cat goes silent, shakes his head and looks up at Ace. Ace doesn't move, fists clenched and shaking.

Luffy stares a moment longer, letting the chilling silence and the bout of warmth wash over him. He's stopped shivering in the absence of the winter chill Ace has temporarily banished with his fire, his rage (his _fear)..._

There's a weak cough and a groan, and Luffy blinks, gasps, whirls –

 _Sabo._

Luffy scrambles for Sabo's uninjured shoulder – he's collapsed again, gasping faintly, eyes glazed over and unfocused. He's pale, so incredibly pale and _cold._ Fear seizes Luffy anew, hands trembling where they grip the ruined coat. A whimpering cry, thick with tears and horror leaves his lips as he shakes Sabo, silently begging him to get up, _don't go to sleep –_

And then Ace is falling to his knees beside Luffy, gathering Sabo up, propping the blond against his chest with one arm, laying a warm palm against his scarred cheek. "Sabo," he cries, brushing his hand through ruined curls of sunshine. He's shaking now, the burning fury fizzling out as pure, arctic terror takes over. "'Bo, look at me, look at me I'm right here – stay with us, Sabo, _look_ at me!"

Sabo blinks, far too slowly, and then tilts his head in Ace's direction. "...Ace...?" he whispers, hoarse and faint. "...s'tha you? N' Lu...where's Lu...'s he...?

Ace swallows hard and nods, pressing his nose into Sabo's hair and holding him close. "Y-Yeah, 'Bo," he croaks. Tears spill freely down Luffy's cheeks as he shuffles close and carefully presses himself against Sabo's side, uncaring of the blood. Ace immediately wraps his unoccupied arm around the pre-teen and pulls him closer, gently rocking them. "We're right here, Sabo," he says into Sabo's ear. "We're right here. Luffy's okay, you're okay, you're gonna be okay. W-We're gonna get you help, so you have to stay _awake_ for me, you hear? Sabo –"

A breathy chuckle, half delirious with pain and blood loss, cuts Ace off. They look down, and there's a smile on Sabo's bloodied lips, warm and loving as always with eyes scrunched closed and everything. "...you're...alright," he says, words slurring dangerously. "...'m glad...s-sorry..."

Then Sabo goes limp against Ace's chest, the smile slipping off his face.

Ace chokes on a breath. Luffy freezes, eyes wide, staring at his brother. He doesn't stir again.

 _...Sabo...?_

Luffy doesn't hear Ace shrieking and begging for somebody, _anybody_ to help. Doesn't hear his heart pounding against his ears or the yowling of the cat as it looks up and suddenly flees into the forest. Doesn't feel the wrenching cry ripping from his throat when he throws his head back and howls.

 _Sabo's dying, he's dying Sabo's gonna die and it's all my fault should've stayed on the ship shouldn't have screamed I'm sorry Sabo I'm so so sorry please don't go please –_

In one instant, Sabo is still and slack in Ace's arms like a puppet cut loose from its strings, his blood painting the grass and snow pink and black. In the next, it's all _too much_ and Luffy's world spirals into darkness.

(The last thing he sees is blue, soft and iridescent against the midnight sky, angel wings of blissfully cool flames enveloping the three of them...)


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N~ Wow, you guys. The response from last chapter is INSANE! Like, I've never felt so EVIL in my life XD Thank you though, to everyone who reviewed (your fear feeds the monster in my souuulll XD) This chapter is slightly shorter, but I think I ended it on a good note :)  
**

 **(*)IMPORTANT: THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES SELF HARM NEAR THE END. IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THIS, PLEASE SKIP A LITTLE AHEAD.**

 **A few mentions -**

 **weep for the empty - inhumanly beautiful series?! My dear you flatter me XD I don't deserve such praise! Thank you though!**

 **Guest 1 - I also very much love Sabo's 'I can crush your skull like an egg' thing. He's one of my faves to write just for that XD Thanks for the lovely review!**

 **Sofia Du Ciar - Luffy will be fine eventually my dear...maybe :)**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - LEARNING IS IMPORTANT, NO FANFIC DURING CLASS XD thanks for the review though, and as much as I love Luffy...he's gonna suffer a little XD**

 **Wordlet - both of your reviews are amazing. Yes, Luffy Sabo and Ace are seperate people and seek their own dreams, but like hell Sabo and Ace are gonna LET Luffy go off that easy XD**

 **CanIHaveAHug/MelodiofHope - Not the pitchforks! *runs***

 **Sorry if I couldn't reply to all of you, but I appreciate every single one of you :)**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 17**

It's all a blur, at first.

One minute, Ace is tearing through the forest, fire blooming to life and consuming his body has he bursts into the clearing, staring down a gang of lowlife hunters and _daring_ them to step closer, hatred flowing off him in waves of red and orange that dances along the edge of the clearing, licking at the trees and melting the blood tainted snow.

Then he's cradling Sabo's prone, bleeding form and Luffy's quivering frame in the circle of his arms, vowing his twin that he'll live even as his consciousness slips, praying and praying and praying that he's not made a liar, quelling the flashes of another body cradled in his arms before his eyes, losing warmth, a life cut far too short in a mere instant.

Sabo goes limp, lifeless as any doll after a final whispered _apology –_

Ace is screaming himself hoarse, begging for help, screw his pride, screw _everything_ because his little brother is _dying_ and his baby brother is _howling_ and tears threaten Ace's eyes but he _can't let them fall and Sabo is_ _ **dying**_ _–_

And then something swoops down from the heavens with a haunting trill that echoes across the winter landscape.

Ace looks up, and a great bird enveloped in dancing blue and yellow flames descends upon them, landing mere feet from where they kneel in the center of grass and melted snow (and Sabo's drying blood), sharp talons scraping the dirt. Flames encircle them in the form of wings – they don't burn, not like Ace's; they're _cool_ and bright like starlight and _calm,_ as if this bird is protecting them, shielding them from the prying eyes of the very world.

This creature, whatever it is, can no doubt tear them apart with ease. And yet Ace has never felt safer.

(There's a symbol on the animal's chest, a familiar mark adorned with pride, but Ace's frazzled thoughts can't place it, won't until much later.)

Luffy's already unconscious, terror and grief too strong rending him useless as he collapses. The flickering blue flames don't touch him, even if they don't burn. The bird looms over, takes one look at Sabo, and once sleepy eyes (so _familiar,_ on the face of a _bird)_ widen with terror and fury so deep it resonates with the freckled teen. Another shrill shriek erupts from the bird, this one definitely enraged, and then it shifts and the wings disappear, its form contained in a ball of swirling blue and yellow for a moment –

Ace feels his jaw drop when _Marco_ steps out of the circle of fire.

 _Marco...Marco is...he's a_ bird?

There's no more time to dwell as Marco drops to his knees beside Ace, one hand on Luffy's shoulder and the other arm wrapping around Ace. Again, he lets himself be held as Marco's piercing eyes roam Sabo's prone frame. "What happened, yoi?" the man asks – deep blue eyes are wild but his tone is calm, void of the fear or panic that surges through Ace like a crippling poison. It might be grounding, were Ace not already half delirious and confused as all hell.

"S-Sabo," he stammers, clutching his brother close. He knows he's trembling, dangerously close to tears, but he just can't stop no matter how hard he tries. "H-He – shot, i-in the shoulder, he – L-Luffy was –!"

"Ace, _calm down._ It's gonna be okay, yoi," Marco says, laying a hand in Ace's hair. " _Breathe._ Your brothers are gonna be okay. But I need you to breathe for me, alright?"

Ace meets the man's eyes, and the calm and _assurance_ gleaming within settles Ace's heart, quells his trembling. He swallows hard, and succeeds in taking a few shuddering breaths, in, out, in out...

"Good job, just keep doing that," Marco lets Ace go and instead puts his hand on Sabo's bleeding shoulder, his other still gripping Luffy's arm in a gentle hold. Eyes narrowing – with quiet rage or concentration, it's hard to tell – blue flames spark to life along his palm and eventually engulf his hand and Sabo's shoulder. Ace barely keeps himself from tearing Sabo away from the commander and burning the man to a crisp (he's already dying, he's already been burned _how dare you burn him again!)_ but remembers that Marco's fire somehow _doesn't_ burn, remembers to _breathe,_ and lets the man do...whatever the hell he's trying to do.

Then Sabo twitches, a weak whimper escaping pale lips as his brows pinch together in pain. Ace gasps, ire and panic once more taking hold. "W-What're you –?"

"Don't worry," Marco says, not looking up from his task. "I can't heal him completely – he'll need surgery to get the bullet out – but I can stop the bleeding long enough for me to get him back to the ship, yoi."

Ace blinks, hard.

Marco is...a magical bird that can _heal...?_

Blue eyes flick upwards to meet silver. "Can you stand, Ace? Can you still walk?" he asks. Ace honestly doesn't know, but he nods regardless. Marco nods back once. "I'll fly Sabo back to ship and get him to Whiskey, yoi. I need you to take Luffy and go back to the town, the others will meet you there. I know it's hard, and I know you're scared and confused, but I need you stay with me a little longer, Ace."

Ace nods again, and doesn't have to wonder why Marco's so concerned about _him_ when it's Sabo and Luffy who need help – he feels light-headed, cold all over, ready to follow Luffy's lead and collapse into the grass and snow and pray this is all another horrible nightmare. But he fights it, (fights against the screaming voices telling him to keep Sabo in his arms, away from the pirate) as he surrenders his unconscious twin over to Marco.

 _He'll be okay. Sabo will be okay. Luffy will be okay. We'll_ all _be okay._

With the same care one would find only with a mother and her child, Marco shifts Sabo onto his back, the younger blond's arms draped over the commanders' shoulders, and after quickly snatching Sabo's new hat out of the snow, he finds his feet and stands without a hitch at his new burden. Blue flames flicker along his arms, already shifting into massive wings that glow in the midnight gloom. He looks down at Ace once more, pale and shaking in the grass, and offers a smile.

"I won't let anything happen to your brother," he says. "You have my word."

Ace already knows this. Of course he does. A week aboard a pirate ship isn't nearly enough time to instill any sort of trust, but...Ace can believe him. He can let his brother go with this powerful man and for once, _believe._ But as he gets to his feet, trembling legs barely holding him up, he gazes at the blue fire engulfing what were once human arms and hands, a question burning at the tip of his tongue until finally – "What...what _are_ you?"

Surprise flickers across the man's face for a moment before a confident grin takes its place. "I'm a Phoenix, yoi."

With a powerful flap of his wings that nearly sends Ace crashing back down on his ass, Marco takes to the inky black skies, Sabo safely secured on his back. Ace watches, mouth agape, until the commander – the _phoenix –_ vanishes from his sight in a flash of florescent blue.

 _A Phoenix. Marco's a freaking Phoenix..._

A moment of gaping, then Ace shakes his head. No time to dwell. He's got to get Luffy to the commanders, meet Marco back at the ship and see for himself that his only twin will be _okay._

It's a struggle, the shock of everything (like a blow to the face, hard and harsh and without mercy or warning) all at once rendering his limbs half useless, but he scoops Luffy up and shifts him onto his back. Hooking his arms under the boy's knees, he takes off through the forest, following his own trail of melted snow and charred grass.

He lets the solid beat of a young heart against his back ground him, keep him lucid as darkness creeps along the edges of his vision, keep him running and running _running_.

By the time he bursts through the boarder of the forest, the world is blurring out of focus as he stumbles to an unsteady halt. Voices surround him, hands catching him before his knees hit the ground, but he hardly registers any of it, panting hard and sweating, wisps of black hair sticking to his sweaty face. He doesn't feel Luffy's weight leave him as somebody – Jozu, maybe? – plucks the kid off his back. He doesn't feel arms come around him or a hand press against his forehead – Thatch? – or hear any of the worried queries and calls from the gathering crowd that someone – Fossa or Kingdew? – orders back.

He _does_ feel a sudden numbness in his limbs, fogginess clogging up his remaining senses in a way that's very new and very, _very_ scary – is he _dying?_ – as he suddenly pitches forward. He _does_ feel himself slam against a solid chest and then lowered carefully to the ground, the muffled exclamations of worry and fear growing fainter and fainter.

He _does_ feel a certain pair of eyes on him, easily towering over the crowds, piercing worry and a gleam of wrath seldom seen in amber eyes so kind and joyful –

And then there's nothing.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

" _...excuse me?"_

 _Ace looks up from where he's struggling with the gold cuffs around his ankles, not bothering to hide his frown. The girl, his glorified 'teacher' for the last few months stands beside him, regarding him from his perch on the only stool in the cramped dressing room. Like him, she's not yet managed to escape the degrading confines of their lavish attire – the show had gone perfectly, thank god – her stance steady and firm and erect like the practiced poise of nobility. Her eyes are tinged with uncertainty, though, and her fingers softly clench and unclench at her sides._

 _His first impulse is to ignore her or snap at her; this room – locked from the outside and incommodious with cushions, a single stool, a make-up desk underneath a round mirror and glittering fabrics not unlike what they now don hanging low from shelves overhead in waves of rainbow – is the only space, the only time (aside from that spent in the cell with his brothers) that he's given a semblance of privacy, of peace and quiet and solitude. He has no desire, or obligation, to talk to this girl – they barely talk during practice, except when she's talking at him to give instruction; monotonic and passionless, stone-faced. A far contrast to the art itself._

 _But he remembers her face when she saw herself in the mirror, remembers how she'd softly cried, how she'd plastered a smile on her face once the servants came to take them to the stage...remembers how they're both victims here, trapped in the same hell..._

 _He remembers, looks up to meet her eyes, and says with mild reluctance, "Yeah?"_

 _She blinks, startled, like she hadn't expected to be addressed or even acknowledged by him – he can't blame her – but quickly rights herself, clearing her throat politely. "...those...those two boys," she says softly, "the ones chained to the guards. They were watching us. Watching you. Do you know them? Who are they?"_

 _Ace has no idea where this is going or why the hell she thinks it's any of her business as to who they are, but he shrugs, having already committed himself to a conversation – imagine that, two slaves having a conversation? Inconceivable – and replies, "they're my little brothers. Sabo's the blond, Luffy's the littlest." He watches her carefully as her eyes widen in understanding and something else (something far too soft,_ longing _) that has Ace swallow hard and turn away, eyes fixed on the opposite wall._

 _Despite this, despite himself and everything, he goes on. "...the guards bring them out to keep me from burning this place to the ground with everyone in it once the seastone goes. If I try anything, they'll be killed."_

 _A silence follows, in which the girl digests everything he's said and Ace wills the burning fury and hatred in his heart to abate at the ugly reminder. Not so hard, really; the seastone does most of the work in that regard, having it slapped back on his ankle the minute they'd stepped off stage._

" _...I see," she says, and lowers herself to sit beside him on the carpeted floor, legs tucked beneath her, hands on her exposed lap. Ace glances at her face through the curtain of brown hair – she'd managed to wrestle off the band pinning it up, and now it cascades freely in chocolate curls down the length of her spine and pools on the floor behind her. There's a faint smile, not at all the false picture she'd painted for the King; this is real, though only slight in size...and sad. "I never had any siblings," she says, violet eyes drawn to her immaculate nails. "I was an only child growing up on my island. I...I cannot imagine how you must feel, knowing your brothers are suffering with you like this..."_

 _Ace clenches his jaw and faces the wall again. "...yeah. They...they don't deserve any of this." His fists clench on his lap, and he hates himself a little more at his next words. "But...if they weren't here...if I were on my own...I don't think I'd still be here."_

 _He feels her stiffen despite the slight distance between them, and hears her earrings and necklaces jingle as she looks up at him. "What do you mean?" she asks._

 _Ace has no idea why he's spewing_ any _of this, why he's even bothering with her when they don't even know each other's names – never asked, therefore never given, never bothered. But when he glances at her again from the corner of his eye, there's genuine curiosity – concern? – in her eyes, and he wonders why. Wonders if this is the first time anyone has bothered to talk to her and not_ at _her...treat her as she treats him now, like a human being, an equal, a_ person _._

 _(Aside from Luffy and Sabo, the only two constants in this shitty existence that he fights to keep, this interaction is entirely new to the twelve-year-old. It's...oddly comforting, he decides. And in the face of this..._ weird _development, he can't help but talk._

 _In a way, he thinks, he needs it. Both of them might.)_

" _They're all I have," he replies softly, sliding off the stool to join her on the floor, legs crossed – it feels wrong, now, to talk down to her. "Without them, I have nobody. No reason to bother trying to escape, or...live. Sounds selfish, but...it is what it is." He avoids her gaze, biting his lip and chewing a little, as has become habit in the last few years. "So...I keep going. For them. Do whatever those bastards tell me to do so they'll leave my family the hell alone. So they can live. No matter what."_

 _Another silence, heavier than the last in the light of his last words. Ace doesn't look at her, doesn't want to see the contemptuous smirk at his ridiculous reason for living. The King certainly finds it increasingly amusing how much he loves Sabo and Luffy, how easy it is to use them to manipulate Ace –_

 _He hears a sniffle._

 _Ace blinks, turns, and – oh_ crap _there's tears in her eyes, he_ really _can't deal with tears right now – but she's smiling. A real, warm, awed thing that coats her sparkling, dimpled cheeks in shades of pink, violet eyes swirling with something_ alive _that hadn't been present in the months of training nor in the ballroom surrounded by beauty and riches and applause._

 _Ace has no idea what the hell to do. "Uhh –"_

" _You are a truly brave and wonderful person."_

 _Ace blinks,_ hard _. "What?"_

 _Her smile broadens as she wipes away a stray tear, smearing the make-up, scooting closer until their knees are touching. Stunned as he is, Ace doesn't shy away from the brush of skin against skin like he would the servants or the King. "You're doing all of this to protect your little brothers. You are still so young, others older than us would have –_ have _already taken their lives, for they had no reason to keep living like this. Yours is so noble and brave...you are very strong. I respect you."_

 _Ace blinks again, positively reeling. The hell is going on? "Uhhhh –_ ack!"

 _He jumps when she reaches out and snatches his hands, clasping them tight in hers. Her smile glows. "Please, tell me your name."_

 _Resisting the urge to snatch his hands back from this girl, Ace swallows. "...Ace. Portgas D. Ace."_

" _Ace? A wonderful name! My name is Mei, I do not have a last name. It's a pleasure to properly meet you, Portgas D. Ace."_

 _(Hearing his name fall from foreign lips after so long...it twists his heart a little, he admits.)_

" _Nice to meet you too," he replies. He offers her a smile of his own, small and tinged with awkwardness, but a smile nonetheless. She doesn't let his hands go, so he doesn't take them back and keeps still. "So..."_

" _I have decided," Mei announces._

 _Ace barely doesn't jump. "D-Decided what?"_

" _My new reason to live and keep living as you do."_

" _...pardon?"_

" _I want to help you help your brothers!"_

"...huh?!"

 _Mei scoots closer, still smiling, though it dims the slightest bit an instant later. "I have no reason to continue like this. I have no siblings or any special powers to help me escape. My island is not so easily found, not without an Eternal Pose, and it would be impossible to contact my comrades or my mother. But if I can help you and your brothers...that might be enough. For me. And you are a_ good _person, Ace. I can tell."_

 _Ace is once more rendered speechless, staring wide-eyed at the young girl looking at him like one might look at the night sky on a cloudless night, at the sun after years without its light; with wonder and hope. He swallows again. "Uh, look, I really – I mean, you don't know – I'm not worth –"_

 _Mei clenches his hands tighter, shutting him up. "Yes. You are," she insists firmly, leaving no room for argument. "And I have already made up my mind. I shall teach you everything I know. Together, we will get stronger, your brothers as well. I give you my permission to pass on whatever I teach you to them. And then we will leave this place, forever. Together. Shall we?"_

 _Ace's breath hitches, fingers twitching in her grasp._

 _She...she wants to help. She wants to protect his brothers with him. Help him – all of them – get stronger somehow. And...and then..._

 _He'd lost some of that hope the day Sabo attained the scars he now bears on his face and along his arm – from Ace's fire. He'd lost that hope after Luffy refused to speak, barely uttering a sound in fear of punishment, even in his brothers' company. But Mei, her words, the radiance in her eyes, the infectious smile filled with care and promise, new life flowing off her in waves...the hope he'd lost re-surges, slowly blooming like a rose in his heart. A smile creeps along his freckled face._

 _It's foolish, he knows, to get hopeful. He'd tried once and it nearly cost him his brother. But with Mei and whatever plan she might have in store – though the idea of getting stronger via_ dancing _is laughable – he can't help but want to try, one more time._

 _Because they're not alone now. They have someone in their corner._ Ace _has someone..._

 _Swallowing the very real threat of tears, Ace matches her grin and nods, clasping her hands tight. "...okay," he says after a deep breath to steady himself, quell the brimming excitement and...dare he say_ happiness _surging through him like his fire. "Okay. Let's do it, then. Together. It's a promise...Mei."_

 _In the lone lantern light of the cramped, locked dressing room, Mei's smile shines brighter than any star. "Right, Ace. It's a promise."_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

" _Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing, onward the sailors cry ~. Carry the lad that's born to be king, over the sea to Skye~."_

Ace stirs awake from the bittersweet memory-turned-dream, atop a plush surface he's come to recognize as their own bed, to the sound of someone singing.

Eyes cracking open with an inaudible groan, the first thing Ace sees is Luffy, still unconscious (or at this point asleep, though by no means peaceful) lying on his side facing Ace in a similar position, now dressed in a simple sweater and thick pants in place of the ripped, sopping wet ones. The forest and the snow are gone, and Ace is faced instead with the tepid confines of their cabin, illuminated only by the oil lamp on the wall that casts the rest of the room in faint shadow. It must be just before dawn, now, still dark outside...

There's a solid presence behind him, the owner of the soft voice, and he carefully cranes his neck to look. It's Thatch, sitting on the bed, polishing something in his hands, probably one of his swords. He can't see the man's face beyond those broad shoulders, but he hears his voice clearly.

" _Though the waves heave, soft will ye sleep. Ocean's a royal bed~. Rocked in the deep, flora will keep watch by your weary head. Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing, onward the sailors cry. Carry the lad that's born to be king, over the sea to Skye~."_

It's not a tune Ace has heard before, but it's a good one; Thatch's quiet baritone certainly succeeds in nearly lulling Ace back to sleep. A part of the teen wants to do just that, to curl up around Luffy and escape to the land of dreams where nothing can touch him. But another part tells him he needs to stay awake, demand answers. For what? He can't remember...

And then he does.

" _Sabo!"_

Ace lurches upright with a gasp. Thatch squawks and stumbles off the bed completely, sword clattering noisily to the floor, whirling on Ace with a hand over his heart. Luffy sleeps on, dead to the world.

"Dammit, kid, don't _do_ that," the commander gasps, a shaky smile on his lips once the initial shock fades. "Glad you're awake, though. You really had us worried when you passed out –"

"Where's Sabo?" Ace interjects, shifting to sit on his knees (not yet trusting his legs to hold him up) to look Thatch in the eye, his own very wide and _pleading._ How he'd ended up here is still vague to him, but he's _not at Sabo's side_ and that's where he _needs_ to be, where he's _supposed_ to be. "W-Where's my brother, is he okay? Bo's _okay_ , right? _Where is_ –?"

"Hey hey hey, _shhh,"_ Thatch steps forward and takes Ace's shoulder, the other hand gently stroking his mess of wavy bed hair. It's only then that Ace realizes he's been shaking again. The chef offers him a smile, bright and reassuring and every bit the man they've come to know on this mess of a voyage. It's a comfort, but not an instant one. "Easy, kiddo," he soothes. "Sabo's gonna be just fine. Marco got him to Whiskey and the nurses in record time, they finished surgery a little while ago. He lost a lot of blood, but we've got the best doctors this side of Paradise taking care of him. He's sleeping in the infirmary now. He's okay. Doped up on meds, granted, but he's okay."

Ace stares up at Thatch. He barely registers the hand carding through his hair, the hand on his shoulder or anything but his words, the _fact,_ that his twin is alive. Sabo's alive. He's gonna be okay, and he's _alive..._

His breath hitches, and something stings his eyes with a fury he barely quells in time by shutting his eyes tight and ducking his head. Hands curl into tight fists on his lap, and he bites his lip. He won't draw blood, not in front of Thatch – god knows the man worries enough about them as it is, more so now with Sabo – but it's a close thing. It's made easier when Thatch reclaims his seat and wraps his arms around Ace's shoulders, pulling him to his chest in a careful but warm embrace.

It's the first any of the Whitebeard's have hugged him. The first he's accepted, or even received, a hug from any but his brothers – and her. He'd be miffed ordinarily, but now he can't bring himself to pull or push the man away. He doesn't hug Thatch back either, but he melts against him all the same, shutting his eyes. Thatch gives him a squeeze in response.

He's wrung out and tired, sick of worrying, sick of watching his brothers suffer in one way or another, sick of _this_ and everything in between.

He clenches a fist on his lap, nails biting his palm. Thatch shifts, no doubt looking down at him. "Are _you_ gonna be okay?" he asks.

So suddenly that it rolls his stomach and everything he'd eaten at the party, Ace feels compelled to tell Thatch the truth. Tell him that he's not okay, so far from 'okay' that it's _funny_. Tell him how _tired_ he is, how this is his fault for not keeping a closer eye on Luffy, for letting Sabo go off with two commanders who don't yet know how to handle the blond when he 'switches', for letting both his brothers suffer when it should be _Ace_ with the bleeding hole in his gut, _him_ with devil's blood in his veins, not his brothers who deserve _none of this,_ who never deserved to _**suffer**_ for five damned years because he _hadn't been careful enough._

The urge is quickly squashed. Instead, Ace lifts his head, quirks his lips just right to feign a half-smile – "Eventually," he replies.

Thatch smiles back.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

When Luffy finally wakes half an hour later – the sun just starting to peek over the horizon – it's to panicked cries and unvoiced, desperate pleas as he scrambles for Ace, eyes wide and wild and brimming with overflowing tears. It's another five minutes of Ace framing the kid's blotchy face between warm palms and whispering in soothing tones before Luffy calms enough for him and Thatch to explain the...'situation.'

By the end of it, the boy is all but boneless against Ace with relief, remnants of shock leaving him shivering even as Ace holds him close and tight. Thatch drapes one of their thicker blankets – another gift from Izo and Vista, surprisingly – over them both. The shivers abate, but the fear lingers.

(The sight of Sabo, pale and bleeding and limp in Ace's arms, is bound to haunt them both for weeks, if not months, to come. In all their years, as slaves and feral boys running circles around bandits and noblemen alike, this is the closest they've come to death's door since Bluejam – not even when Ace was beaten with whips, chains and canes until his back was black and blue, or when the guards had shoved Sabo's face into raging flames.

Thank god they've managed to spare Luffy any such pain thus far. Or at least tried their damned hardest...)

A short silence passes between the pirate and the two brothers. Ace strokes Luffy's hair. Thatch busies himself with polishing his other blade. The silence isn't comfortable nor is it tense. It's...tame. Leaves room for thoughts to take hold, information to sink in; Sabo and Luffy are safe, Marco is apparently an immortal Phoenix bird thing with magic healing flames (...yeah, still not over that), and everything is going to be alright.

But it also leaves room for _other_ thoughts. Other pieces of information that Ace (selfishly, _horribly)_ wishes he'd never asked the quivering boy in his arms for.

Luffy...he'd wanted to find the cat they'd saved to give him a _present._ The poachers caught him because they found him playing with their 'prize'. Sabo got shot for fighting the bastards, following Luffy's terrified _screams_ because they were going to _sell him._

(If not for Thatch's watchful eye, or that they've already got one brother _hospitalized_ and another recovering from the shock of it all, nothing would keep Ace from hunting those bastards down and _murdering_ them. He's already killed one – it hasn't sunk in yet, that he's taken his first life, though it surely will later and with a vengeance – and it would be so easy...so _easy,_ to put an end to their miserable lives for even _**daring**_ to think about selling his baby brother, for _**shooting**_ his twin –)

There's a tug on his sleeve. Ace blinks hard, rapidly, the haze of rage and hellfire dancing before his eyes dying in an instant, and he looks down to meet the worried baby browns of his youngest sibling.

"Mn?" Luffy grunts; he won't sign when his arms and hands are occupied, wrapped tight around Ace's waist with no intention of letting go. The curiosity is clear though, so Ace forces a smile. It's strained and tired as he is, but he puts every ounce of love into it as he strokes Luffy's hair back from his feverish face.

"'M fine, Lu," he says – if his voice sounds a little hoarse, no one mentions it, (not even Thatch, pretending not to pry and failing, but E for Effort or whatever). "Just...tired, that's all. 'S okay."

It's not enough to satisfy the pre-teen, but enough to have him let him go of Ace and lean back, biting his lip, unsure. Guilt bleeds into his gaze and courses through his frame as he hunches his shoulders, looking so small that it beggars belief and clenches Ace's heart. 'Are...are you mad at me?' he signs slowly. 'Because I left without asking, and I got caught, and it's my fault that 'Bo –'

"No, no, Luffy, I'm not mad," Ace interjects swiftly, shuffling forward and once more taking Luffy's face between his hands in a gentle hold. "I'm not mad at you for this. Well, maybe a _little,_ for being a sneaky little shite and running off like that," he adds with a smirk. It earns him a giggle (at last) from the boy that's only a little repentant. "But it wasn't your fault. None of it was. Not 'Bo getting hurt, not you getting caught. You had no idea what was gonna happen, and...you just wanted to help a friend. I can't blame you for that."

He presses a kiss against Luffy's forehead and then folds his arms around the tiny kid again, burying his nose into his hair. "Just...be careful, okay?" he whispers, squishing Luffy close. " _Tell us_ these things before you go off on your own like that. You scared the hell out of us, little brother..."

Fingers clench the back of his shirt, and Luffy nods against Ace's chest.

(That's as good an affirmation as he's gonna get, for now. When Sabo's lucid, however...they won't let this go so easy. There's much more to this, Ace thinks, than a mere act of kindness gone awry.)

For now, though...he's still so _tired._

And it's not due to any lack of rest or even stress, despite the utter hell the last few hours have been. This is bone deep, spreading all over until his body, mind and soul are numb with it, leaving little room for anything else. It's familiar, and only ever leads to one thing.

He's tired. _Numb._ And he needs _out._ He can't let Luffy see.

So he gives Luffy one last squeeze and lets go with one last hair ruffle just to make him smile, fixing the blanket snugly around the kid's slim shoulders before shuffling off the bed and heading for the door. Luffy blinks after him, confused, smile falling. Thatch stops polishing, raises his head and a single brow. "Where're you goin', kiddo?" he asks. "I know how bad you wanna see Sabo, really I do, but Whiskey said to –"

"I know." Ace throws them both another wane smile over his shoulder from the doorway. He doesn't care if they notice how transparent it is. "I'm not going to the infirmary. I just...I need a minute. By myself. I'll be back soon, don't worry."

But there's worry in Thatch's lingering gaze anyway, in Luffy's, as they watch him slip into the hall and shut the door behind him. It's selfish, leaving Luffy on his own now of all times, when he needs his brothers near more than ever...but he _can't_ see this. And Thatch will keep him company, take his mind off things. The Fourth commander has a knack for making Luffy laugh. He'll be okay.

 **(*)** Ace doesn't need to go very far. There's a spot, a loose panel leading to a hole in the wall by the stairs leading up to the decks, that he'd chanced upon a day or two ago. It's small, but just large enough to fit a teen Ace's size in comfortably. Dark enough that he won't be noticed, if he's quiet. Out of the way, secluded, unseen by anyone, even the commanders or shipwrights.

The coast clear, Ace crawls into the hole and sits back against the wall. Staring blankly at his knees tucked up close to his chest, Ace lets the numbness wash over him completely. His thoughts wander, deep into territory dark enough that on better days he'd leave it uncharted, unventured, never to breech the surface and consume him. Now, he's too far in to notice his teeth digging into his wrist, still not yet healed from it's last beating, drawing blood.

It's always the same. This always, _always_ happens, and Ace is tired _._ So, so _tired._

He'd been dumb enough to think their suffering was over, that Whitebeard and his crew could protect them from the very world that had dug its claws into their backs, leaving brands and scars, and dragged them to the pits of an inescapable hell. He'd let himself believe that, deluded himself enough to _depend_ on the enemy of his bastard father to protect his brothers, and they paid the price for his negligence, the fantasy he'd dreamt...the very thought of _accepting_ such a dangerous, stupid _, ignorant_ offer...

" _Join my crew. And I will call you my son."_

Son. Ace wants to scoff, but his mouth is otherwise engaged digging holes into his wrist.

Why would Whitebeard ever want someone like Ace on his crew? They're all about their bond, their family. Ace can barely protect his own bothers, barely protect himself from his own _head._ He's nothing. Nothing compared to Luffy's boundless love and kindness, his fearlessness, his will and ability to dream and keep dreaming, or Sabo's wit and intelligence and tenacity, his empathy and stubbornness, his infinite thirst for knowledge.

Ace is nothing. He's _nothing._ Nothing but a demon spawn, a slave, a cursed child who should never have been born, _worthless,_ couldn't protect his brothers, couldn't protect _Mei_ when she _needed him and he'd_ _ **promised her**_ _–_

" _Mrow."_

Ace blinks. The haze fades, darkness receding. He blinks again, dropping his bloody wrist and lifting his head – _"_ _Yeaugh!"_ **(*)**

Only to rear back, banging his head against the wall with a wince through gritted teeth, at the furry face mere inches from his own staring at him with wide, unblinking emerald eyes. He only just stays his hand (the clean one, not throbbing and aching and numb) from bursting into flames by the familiar scarf wrapped tight around the creature's foreleg.

Ace gapes, hands flopping uselessly to his sides. It's the same lynx. He'd...followed them. Aboard the ship. Full of pirates. (And if the lack of pounding feet and confounded shouts is anything to go by, not one person has noticed that they've acquired yet another stowaway.)

"What – what are you doing here?" he asks, not expecting a verbal answer but, well, it doesn't hurt to ask. "How'd you get on without anyone seeing you? How'd you even find me –?"

The lynx steps forward, squishing easily into the confined space despite its size. Confusion and slight trepidation aside, the teen doesn't fight against the massive paw prodding at his arm or the strong jaws nipping at his ruined sleeve until the freckled human finally surrenders said arm. They both stare at the bloody mess of his wrist for a moment, and then the lynx _opens his mouth –_

"Hey now," Ace warns, but is quickly silenced when all the animal does is lick at the wounds like he would his own were it not for the scarf. Its tongue is rough and slobbery, its breath wretchedly putrid in such close quarters, but Ace doesn't stop him. Doesn't move, doesn't speak. Doesn't deny the gesture for what it is, uncanny though it seems...

But when the lynx raises its head, his wrist clean and the bleeding stopped, soulful eyes peer deep into his own. And Ace _feels_ the message, the firm command, as easily as one might hear it spoken – ' _Don't do that'._

In the face of it, incredible and odd and all around _weird_ though it is (and so achingly reminiscent of Luffy that it hurts), Ace can only shake his head with a soft chuckle that's only a little watery. "...okay," he croaks, sniffing once, blinking away the looming threat of dampness in his eyes and scrubbing his other hand over his face. "Okay."

Satisfied, the lynx paws at Ace's legs again until he obligingly uncurls, laying them flat on the floor. The lynx immediately crawls onto his lap, ignoring Ace's pained wheeze (what does he think he is, a house cat?) and rubs its face into the teens' shoulder, neck and cheek, chuffing low. As though he's comforting Ace...

 _'Nature sure is a weird bitch,'_ Ace thinks, but gingerly brings his arms up to wrap them around the cat all the same, fingers digging into the voluminous fur. Swallowing hard, he buries his face into the creature's neck just beneath the chin, losing himself for a moment in the encompassing warmth of a different kind. So _warm,_ like a blanket, not at all the sweltering furnace of his own flames or even the cool blue of Marco's wings, easily banishing the chilling numbness prior.

The lynx purrs and chuffs against him, rumbling deep from his chest as he licks Ace's cheek and hair. Ace holds on tighter, and for the first time in hours, he feels well and truly safe. Protected, if only for a moment.

(Usually, Ace is the protector. The one to throw himself into the fiery pits of hell for the sake of those he loves with all his heart. The one to endure punishments, humiliation and the like without a word of protest, tears or reluctance of any sort. That's _his_ role.

Just this once, however...he can let himself be protected. Just this once.)

He doesn't know how long he stays here, squatting in a hole in the wall with a queerly docile animal in his lap, hugging him like a child would a teddy bear. But by the time he decides enough is enough and slips from underneath the weight of the cat, crawling out of the little dark hole in the wall, he feels...better. Lighter, almost.

The pang of guilt and worthlessness, demons that taunt and holler at him in the back of his mind still reside within him, probably will for a long while yet. But their claws don't reach for him now in the presence of a creature with far stronger, sharper claws and teeth that _dare_ them to try again.

Ace stands up straight, closes his eyes. He takes a breath. And another. And another.

Sitting in a dark hole, regretting and regretting and bleeding himself dry won't do any good. It won't help Sabo or Luffy, who need him to be strong. Won't help him get _stronger_ , won't protect what he still has regardless of what he's lost...won't do anything except spit on everything the Whitebeard's have done for them thus far, even if the old man's offer still haunts him.

 _Get up, you idiot. Stop wallowing in self-pity. What's done is done. Your brothers need you now. Get off your ass and be the brother you promised to be._

With that, he opens his eyes. There's a soft bump against his hand, and he's smiling before he can help himself as he crouches and rubs the creature's head between his palms, grinning wide (and real). "You're one weird kitty," he chuckles. "But...thanks. Guess that makes us even, yeah?"

He gets a chuff in response. If he could talk to animals, that just might be a 'yeah.'

He stands again and makes his way down the hall to the nearest shower room. Best to get something to hide the bite as best he can before they visit Sabo. A steady trot of clawed feet follow him at his heels, a sturdy presence at Ace's right hand that he wasn't aware he needed until he had it.

It's only then that Ace realizes – "Aw damn." He looks down at the animal, resigned. "I'm keeping you, aren't I?" The only reply he gets is a simple, incredibly satisfied 'Mrow'.

(Were Ace able to understand him, however, he would find it's very much the other way around; _'I'm the one keeping_ you, _dumb warm-human'_.)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N ~ okay you guys...WOW. First of all, the final word count on this chapter is** **10,159. WHAT?! Am I just vomiting words now?!**

 **Second, the amount of support this fic is receiving is CRAZY. I love all of you :') This is the longest chapter yet, and one I've wanted to write for a while (CanIHaveAHug, there's a snippet you might recognize here XD)**

 **A few mentions (there are SO many so forgive me if I can't answer all of you.)**

 **SakuraS41 - Thank YOU for reviewing. I admit, self-harm is hard for me to write, for personal reasons and because, well, I hate the idea of hurting yourself to solve a problem, but it's an unfortunate thing some people do.**

 **Wordlet - Thank you dear! And the shanty is an actual song, it's called Over the Sea to Skye (i think XD) it's a beautiful song.**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - I am a cruel monster XD Don't worry, this is the last chapter of Luffy suffering...for now :)**

 **Sofia Du Ciar - Marco is indeed a god XD Thanks for the review :)**

 **Saringold - Thank you, your review means so much!**

 **Thanks to all the guests that reviewed too, you're all amazing.** **Righty then, on with the chapter! Warning for self hatred and a little angst.**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 18**

It's late afternoon when Whiskey _finally_ permits Sabo ready for visitors. The rest of the crew has since been given the update – he'll be just fine, albeit with a few days rest and no activity that might put further strain on his shoulder. He'll live.

(Ace could hear their shouts and relieved cries echoing above deck from the shower room as he scrubbed his arm, shaking the very foundations of the Moby Dick herself, and Ace's heart with her. Scared the piss out of the poor kitty, though, and he'd scampered off to hide before Ace could stop him.

Not for the first time or the last, Ace wonders just what kind of pirate crew they've stumbled across, hardened sailors who care so little about the world, its rules and rulers yet so much for three former slaves who've been nothing but trouble...makes Ace wonder further, too; if this is the length they go to for outsiders, how much further will they go for their crew...for family?

He shakes it off. No time to dwell. He's got a brother to see, and maybe beat the crap out of.)

Ace and Luffy are the first in the infirmary, barging in with all the reckless force of raven-haired hurricanes. The nurses leave to grant them privacy, but only for a little while, and Whiskey warns them sternly that there's to be _no_ tackle hugging lest they ruin all their hard work. Luffy barely manages to follow through with the warning as soon as the door swings open. It's all Ace can do to keep _himself_ from launching at Sabo, lying pale on the infirmary bed, blinking at them wearily from underneath layers of blankets (mismatched and in varying states of repair, meaning crew-mates and/or commanders must have 'donated' some of their own. The very thought is endearing as it is hilarious.)

Sabo sits up slowly, cracks a smile that's tired and slightly drugged, but no less _Sabo_. "Miss me?"

Luffy is across the room in seconds, clambering onto the bed and across Sabo's lap, then _carefully_ wrapping his arms around Sabo's waist, burying his face into the folds of his plain button-down; his other shirt was bloodied and torn and thus burned along with the black coat. The hat and goggles were thankfully spared from such a fate, and sit comfortably on the bedside table.

The blond chuckles weakly, bringing his arm around Luffy and holding him close as he's able; his right shoulder is bound tightly in bandages and his arm in a sling for now, just to be on the safe side. He grins into Luffy's hair, relief bleeding from his weary frame. "Hey, Lulu," he says softly, voice gravelly with residual pain and drug induced sleep, but the grin on his face is broad and sappy as ever. "Good t' see you. 'M glad you're alright."

The response is a sniffle as Luffy's arms tighten around Sabo's waist, and it's clear the boy isn't letting go any time soon. Sabo holds Luffy tighter.

Ace snorts, joining them on the bed and scooting close. "I think that's _our_ line, 'Bo," he remarks. He reaches out and cups Sabo's scarred cheek in one hand, and the blond looks up to meet his eyes. Ace's smile is a crooked thing, but full of all the love in the world, and he leans forward to press their foreheads together, his grip then shifting to the back of Sabo's head and tangling his fingers into the mess of bed hair.

He shuts his eyes tight against the familiar sting and burn, a sigh shuddering out of him. "Don't ever do that to me again, moron," he whispers, uncaring if his voice breaks just a little. Sabo shifts, Luffy squished between them as he leans into Ace and the comfort he gives, giving some in return. Ace swallows hard. "You scared the hell outta me, Sabo. Both of us."

Another weak chuckle, and Sabo presses closer. "Not 's much as _you_ scared the hunters back there, I'll bet," he retorts. "Pretty sure they pissed themselves. You...literally looked like hell."

Luffy snickers, and Ace feels him nod in agreement. The freckled teen only grins, wobbly and awkward but there no less, and pulls them both close enough to wrap his arms around them, tucking Sabo's head under his chin. "Yeah, well that's what happens when you mess with my little brothers," he says, and means every word. When it comes to Sabo and Luffy – his only light and reason in this world, his _whole_ world – he'll gladly become the demon they've painted the 'fabled' son of Roger as.

For them, he'll be the devil himself.

(He's proved it once, murdering the son of a bitch that shot his brother. He'll gladly prove it again.)

Ace breathes in deep one last time, nosing Sabo's hair before easing up just enough to let Luffy wriggle against Sabo's side instead, but close enough that he's not forced to let the blond go. The reluctance must be clear on his face, too, as Sabo quirks a wry grin at him. "Hey," he says softly, belying the teasing gleam in his eye and leaning forward to catch Ace's gaze when he tries and fails to avert it. "Quit worrying. I'm okay, now. Doesn't even hurt."

Ace looks at him. _Luffy_ looks at him.

Sabo rolls his eyes heavenward, resigned. "Alright alright, it hurts like a bitch, but the stuff the nurses gave me really helps. I promise you, I'm gonna be _okay,"_ he insists, tilting his head in a manner that bids and pleads Ace to believe him, curls falling into his scarred, pale mess of an eye.

It's an effort, a mighty one, but the elder eventually concedes and sits back with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. "Okay," he breathes. "If you say so, 'Bo. Just..."

"I know, big brother. I know," Sabo says, nodding solemnly. The mirth fades, eyes drawn to the bed-sheets where his left hand clenches into a loose fist, and _there –_ that _look_ on his face rears its ugly head, and something in Ace's chest burns hot and fierce because he knows what Sabo's thinking, knows what he's going to say. Soon enough – "I'm...I'm sor –"

" _Don't_ you apologize," Ace snaps, jolting both Sabo and Luffy who look at him with wide eyes. He feels a twinge of regret at that, but he ploughs right on; there's enough blame and regret going around as it is, and frankly, Ace has had enough.

(He doesn't want to hear it. Not with those same words still reverberant in Ace's ears from when they'd been whispered into the freezing night, blood pouring from an open wound and staining the white snow red. Not when Ace had dared to think for a _moment_ that those words would be the last to leave his little brothers' lips because he'd _failed_ him.)

"It wasn't your fault, or Luffy's. True, _you_ snuck out –" he looks at Luffy, who bites his bottom lip and shrinks back a little "– and _you_ ran off on your own like an idiot –" Sabo has the grace to look sheepish "– but the ones to blame are the bastards who thought they could get away with shooting you and _selling_ you. _You_ don't have to apologize for anything except scaring the hell outta me. Anything else – I don't give a damn. You're okay, and that's _all_ I care about. Alright?"

They blink at him, thrown for a moment. Sabo's watery laugh breaks the silence first, shaking his head and not-so-surreptitiously wiping a stray tear with his free hand. "Y-Yeah," Sabo croaks, and when his gaze next meets Ace's, discolored eyes are light and free from the shadows of guilt and fear even as they look down again. "Right. Okay. Guess I can believe –"

He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes narrowing at a fixed point by Ace's left hand. Then his expression is frighteningly _blank,_ a chill running up Ace's spine when Sabo lifts his head to look at Ace again. Luffy's smile fades, no doubt sensing the charge of ire leaking into the once cheerful air like a foul odor, eyes darting between them.

Sabo snatches Ace's left wrist quick as a whip, holding it up in a grip that's nigh painful – "What the hell is this?" he asks, not taking his eyes off the freckled teen. Doesn't need to, when the marks are clear as day for all to see.

Ace kisses his teeth and scowls, inwardly cursing himself and this lousy day in general. Figures half an hour of scrubbing in the bathroom wouldn't do a lick of good – the blood is gone (thank you, lynx who has yet again disappeared to god knows where) but the shallow marks remain. Both sets.

(He must look like the _biggest_ hypocrite _._ The seething glare in Sabo's narrowed eyes confirms it.)

Luffy gasps at the glaring marks marring Ace's pale skin, a soft, _hurt_ sound that drives the knife deeper into Ace's heart. Sabo drops his wrist without fanfare, letting it flop uselessly to the bed, and his jaw clenches hard like he's holding back a scream. _"_ _Ace –"_

"Don't, Sabo, I _know,"_ Ace sighs harshly, scrubbing a hand through his hair for what feels like the millionth time. He might be collecting clumps soon, might even go bald. Excuses will do him no good, he knows, has learned well enough by now, but he's dumb enough to try anyway as Sabo's ire grows by the second. "I just...it's not what...I –"

" _Mrow."_

They freeze. Sabo blinks, tilts sideways to peer over Ace's shoulder at the door. Luffy, blank as a canvas, follows his gaze. Ace stays where he is, lips pressed in a fine line, staring at the wall behind Sabo's bed.

Something scratches at the door from the hallway beyond, another wordless yowl demanding entry, impatient and loud.

Sabo blinks again. "Ace," he says.

"Yes?" Ace says.

"Am I still high?"

"...don't think so."

"So I'm not the only one hearing that."

"...no."

" _Mroooowwwww~"_ says the creature still pawing at the door, louder and somehow _whinier_. Luffy shuffles off the bed first; neither of his brothers attempt to stop him as he moves to the door and opens it wide.

The lynx, who has suddenly deemed it (conveniently) appropriate to rear its fluffy head once more, is standing on its hind legs and scratching at the door. When the door unexpectedly swings open, the animal topples onto Luffy, and the boy goes down with a high-pitched squeak. Delighted giggles soon follow as the lynx rubs his face against Luffy's and licks his cheeks, chuffing jubilantly as the boy hugs him, pinned under the mass of fur.

Sabo stares a moment longer, and then slowly turns to Ace. "...are you _serious_?" he squeaks; the easy switch from anger to panic is suddenly hysterically funny to Ace, so much that it's impossible to hide the _slightly_ guilty grin splitting Ace's face in two as he rubs the back of his neck. He at least has the grace to look bashful about his reply:

"Ah...would it help if I said he followed me here and I absolutely didn't bring him aboard on purpose?"

The narrowed eyes he gets in response don't bode well for him. "Have you told anyone yet?" Sabo probes, clearly knowing the answer already.

So Ace grins harder. "Nope."

Sabo's eye twitches. Luffy keeps on giggling and playing with the animal on the floor, batting at massive paws that bat back, ignorant or simply ignoring the so-called 'tension' brewing between his older brothers as one glares holes into the other. "And do you plan on keeping him regardless of what I, or anybody else aboard this ship we're practically _hitch-hiking_ on, have to say on the matter?" the blond asks.

"...Yep."

"Then screw you."

The cat grunts, leaps off Luffy and onto the bed between Ace and Sabo. The scarred blond rears back, a little wary. "H-Hey, now," he stammers anxiously, perturbed by the fangs and claws of this wild animal no doubt, but falls silent when the lynx chuffs again and rubs his face against Sabo's uninjured shoulder, paws pushing down on Sabo's chest until he's forced onto his back with a startled grunt, thus rendering him helpless against the cat's affectionate head-rubs and licking.

"Ack – _no,_ stop, nonono, bad kitty – aw c'mon –!" Sabo cries, but soon ends up in a mess of giggles despite his prior reluctance and half-hearted struggles. "Okay, okay okay _okay_! You can stay, you can stay just _stop, please~!"_

Satisfied, claiming yet another victim (because Ace is almost _positive_ that's what's happening now) the cat eases off of Sabo to instead pester Ace. He doesn't attack the oldest teen with affection as he had the younger, instead sprawling across Ace's lap languidly, nuzzling into the boys' stomach with a jaw cracking yawn that flashes gleaming fangs. He shuts his eyes, already on the way to a good nap.

Smiling with the same fondness he's only ever granted his siblings, Ace cards a hand through the thick pelt of fur. "Good kitty," he says. A tranquil purr rumbles from the feline in reply.

(Yes. They're _absolutely_ keeping him.)

Whilst Luffy takes the opportunity to rejoin them on the bed and pet their new friend, Sabo sits up again and unsuccessfully attempts to wipe off the slobber coating his face and cheeks with one functioning arm – most of it comes off, but he'll need a shower. Maybe two. "Gross," he mutters, but doesn't sound too pissed, and looks up at Ace. "Still, as much as I like the idea...what d'you think Whitebeard's gonna say about...this?" He gestures the sleeping cat, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "I mean, the crew's already given us a _lot_ of leeway with what we can and can't do or 'get away' with. Maybe a pet is taking things a little too far? And...after last night..."

Another silence falls. Ace fights a grimace at the unvoiced query, the niggling fear that's been festering within all of them since they woke.

 _What if they don't trust us anymore? Regret giving us too much freedom? What if they...?_

"Don't worry about your new little friend. He's safe with us."

The boys _screech_ and the cat _yowls._ They whirl around to find Commanders Izo, Rakuyo, Thatch and Fossa standing in the doorway, smiling and sniggering respectively – and how in the _hell_ did Ace (or _any_ of them) not notice the presence of three, unbelievably powerful people? Ace must be losing his touch...or simply getting far too comfortable, complacent. That needs to change, and soon.

In the meantime, they've got a problem.

Ace's gaze darts between the gathered commanders and the feline standing ridged on Ace's lap, fur electrified and eyes comically wide for an animal. Ace swallows. "U-Uh...it's...I –"

"Oh hush now, Ace dear," Izo snickers, slowly approaching the bed; the taller, _bigger_ commanders stay back (though Thatch is grinning fit to burst at the animal, cooing under his breath, but what else is new?). "We spotted him making quite the fuss outside the door. We heard everything. Hope you can forgive us for prying." He sits on the edge of the bed beside Luffy, making no move to touch the wary creature, not even looking at him as he ruffles Luffy's hair instead, thus clearing the tension. Even the cat relaxes, and tentatively shuffles close enough to sniff Izo's robes.

And then Ace blinks again, hard – "Wait. You heard _everything?"_ he asks.

Izo meets his eyes, unreadable. He nods. "Everything."

Ace hangs his head. _Shite._

"We just wanted to stop by to see if Sabo's up to eating anything now that he's lucid and, y'know... 'un-drugged', if that's even a thing...screw it it's a thing, I'm makin' it a thing," Thatch chatters, leaning against the doorway, arms folded over his chest and his smile warm and easy as anything. Fossa and Rakuyo eye the cat a moment longer, watching as it gets acquainted with their fellow commander. "Also wanted to give you boys an update about what's been happening since you conked out. Gave us all quite the scare, lemme tell ya."

At that, Luffy and Sabo immediately wilt like dying flowers. Ace almost wants to punch Thatch with a flaming fist to the jaw just for that, but not even his frustration is enough reason to strike the man they've grown attached to over the last week. And upsetting them clearly wasn't his intention if the stricken look on the chef's face is anything to go by.

Still, to see all Ace's hard work be undone with a few simple words hurts more than he'd like to admit.

To add insult to injury, Sabo bows his head low, and Luffy follows suit. "I'm...we're sorry," he says. Ace stifles a curse, has to look away when Sabo's jaw and eyes clench shut with regret that has _no right_ to be there. "We've...we've caused you a lot of trouble and ruined your night. We're sorry. We're sorry –"

"Sabo." Izo's voice cuts through the start of the mantra like a knife. All eyes turn to the cross-dresser – his eyes are narrowed, hard, but not at all unkind as they move from Luffy to Sabo's stunned stares. The man sighs, and without warning pulls them both into the circle of his arms, the cat ducking out of the way before he's squished between them. They stiffen, Sabo mostly, but Luffy hadn't expected this either even as he relaxes against Izo's chest.

Sabo blinks, hard, and says "Bugh?"

"We're not angry with you," Izo vows, holding them a little closer when Sabo stammers something that sounds like a disagreement. "We truly aren't. You scared us, but that doesn't mean we're _mad._ We're all just glad you're alright."

 _Thank god for Izo,_ Ace thinks with a wry smile, has half a mind to hug the man, but stays himself just in time. Sabo's eyes water just a little, and Luffy giggles outright and wraps his arms around Izo's waist, clinging even when the commander lets them both go.

Then Izo turns to Ace. Painted lips quirk just once, and the smile is anything but innocent. "Oh, you're not getting away that easily, mister. _Come here!"_ and he pounces (as does the cat, _away_ from Izo and to the safety of the floor) on Ace and pulls him close. Ace squawks, attempts to flee, and is thwarted when Luffy's rubbery arms wrap around them twice over and trap him against the commander. He relents with a rough sigh, flips Sabo off when the blond starts cackling at his expense.

(But he bears it. Because Ace has never been too good at expressing gratitude, this'll have to do.

Though it doesn't help when Thatch starts laughing, prompting the other two commanders to join in as they pile into the room. He settles for glaring at them as much as he can with his face squashed against Izo's shoulder. It's not very effective.)

The men give the cat a wide berth and circle the bed, Thatch coming to sit on Sabo's left near Izo, Fossa ruffling Luffy's hair and Rakuyo giving Ace's shoulder a friendly nudge as he's released from Izo's suffocating grasp at last. Ace nudges him back, still pouting, and gets a wry smirk in return.

"So, what's been happening?" Sabo finally asks when they've settled, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket until Luffy takes his hand and starts playing with his fingers, lacing them with his own. Sabo smiles briefly at the action. "Did...did the poachers get away?"

Something shifts in the air, and it's not a nice shift. The aura bleeding into the whitewashed room reminds Ace all too much of Sabo's when he 'switches', and it sends an unpleasant shudder down the length of his spine. Luffy shuffles closer to Sabo, on one's guard but not afraid. He trusts these pirates, more than even Ace does (then again what else is new?). Even so...it's a grim reminder that these are indeed _New World pirates_ before anything else; criminals of the seas, no matter their hearts or kind smiles.

It almost makes Ace pity the bastards and whatever ill fate befell them at the hands of the Whitebeard commanders. Almost.

"Nah, we caught 'em," Rakuyo says at last, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. The lynnx paws curiously at his boots, and the man doesn't bat an eye. "Marco tracked 'em down once he dropped blondie off with Whiskey. Jozu and Blenheim went with him, beat the bastards good 'n proper before draggin' their asses back to town. Notified the mayor and left 'em to face justice on their terms."

"They won't be seeing daylight for a long time," Fossa adds with a grunt. He moves to light a cigar, only to pause halfway, remembering where they are, and shoving his hands in his pockets instead. "Not only did they break the laws by hunting in protected forests, but they shot and attempted to kidnap two boys on top of that. Still, wish they could'a given them to _us_ instead." He glares hard at the opposite wall, fists clenching. "Prison's too good for them; they deserve worse for messin' with one of ours."

Ace blinks, balks a little. 'One of ours'? Does he mean...?

" _Join my crew...and I will call you my son."_

 _No, not possible. No way._ Ace shakes his head and looks away, fingers curling into his palm. They're not one of theirs. Ace certainly isn't, won't be, _can't._

(He won't admit it, not aloud or even to himself...but he kind of likes it. That they care enough to even consider such a thing, go to lengths no one else has for their sake. That Whitebeard might not be the only one...)

"Besides all that," Thatch adds, and the aura dispels in the face of his wonted cheerfulness, "you didn't ruin our night. In fact, everyone's been partying since Whiskey broke the news." At the collective double-take from the boys, the Fourth Commander laughs. "Don't act so surprised. We're pirates; any reason to party, we take it. And if one of ours makes it out of a tight spot in one piece," he shrugs coolly, but his gaze is warmer than any flame when he regards the boys, "well, we party harder."

Sabo blinks, looks down at his lap and blushes hard. Luffy looks up at the pirates and beams, wide and happy. There's an incredibly sappy look on Fossa's face that he tries his hardest to hide (he fails, quite spectacularly) as he ruffles Luffy's hair a second time, earning a giggle that melts the collective hearts of those around him, as usual.

Ace isn't blushing. He really isn't. It's just hot in here, that's all. The smirks he gets from both Izo and Rakuyo certainly don't help matters any, and he huffs and turns away. Their snickers are even worse, and it's all he can do to stay his hand from flipping them off.

 _Bloody pirates, making Ace_ feel _things._

Then Izo pats his lap once, rising to his feet with practiced grace. "Right then. I think it's time we took our leave," he says, giving the other three commanders a _look_ at their reluctant whines that have them leap to attention. The look fades when he graces the brothers with a smile. "Thatch will bring you something to eat soon, Sabo. If you'd like, I'll see if Whiskey will let you sleep in your cabin with your brothers instead of the infirmary, provided you heed her warnings...and that your new kitty friend behaves."

They all look down. The cat is lying on his back, belly exposed, innocent as anything for what many would call a bloodthirsty beast. It's almost cute – scratch that, it _is_ cute, but the only one acknowledging it out loud is (of course) Thatch. The man seems to have a thing for animals.

Ace casts his eyes to the commanders, shoulders unconsciously hunching. "...Whitebeard won't be too mad if we keep him...will he?" he asks. While he certainly won't join the man's crew any time soon, he holds a...grudging respect the veteran pirate for what he's done – _everything_ he's done, regardless of what troubles the three stowaways have caused for him and his crew in the space of a week, nearly two. The last thing he wants is to push that man's buttons more than they already have.

But Thatch shakes his head, smiles amiably, and says "Nah, I doubt he'd mind. Might actually help out catching pests and stuff lurking around the ship. S'long as he's a _good_ boy and doesn't pick a fight with Stefan or try to eat Marco in his sleep, right buddy?" He leans down to scratch the cat's exposed belly, not flinching when those big paws latch onto the chef's arm; there's no hint of spite or hostility, only curiosity and mild tolerance.

(At the mention of Marco, of all people, getting eaten, Sabo's brows furrow and he casts a glance at Ace in silent query. Ace shrugs one shoulder, a mute 'tell you later'. Sabo nods with a roll of his eyes, letting it go for now. But _boy_ , has Ace got a story for him.)

Just as they get up to leave with the promise of a late lunch, Izo turns to them one last time. "Thought of a name yet?" he asks.

Ace thinks for a moment as the cat leaps back onto the bed with a huff, relieved to be left alone with his new charges. He remembers the warmth, the fur under his fingers soft and thick like a blanket on a cold night, safe and so endlessly warm...remembers a time long ago, back on the mountains of Dawn, when Dadan had pulled out a table with blankets from storage, big enough for the three little rascals to burrow under when the winter winds were ruthless...

He meets the cat's dark eyes, staring unblinking into his own where he lays sprawled across Luffy and Sabo's laps. Just like that fuzzy blanket Ace had secretly adored.

"Kotatsu," he says at last, and smiles.

The cat – Kotatsu now – almost seems to smile back.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Ace and Luffy are gently ushered out of the infirmary after two hours of filling him in on what else he missed while he was out. He vows a further 'discussion' of Luffy's earlier behavior later before seeing them and the newly christened Kotatsu off, leaving him alone in the whitewashed walls of the infirmary.

But he's by no means alone or lonely for long; Sabo gets several more visitors throughout the remainder of the day and early into the night, commanders and crew-mates alike all wishing him a speedy recovery, expressing relief, nearly overwhelming him until the nurses finally boot them out.

The last one to visit is Whitebeard himself, comically huge in the confined space of the infirmary and more so as he comes to sit by Sabo's bedside, crouching since no chair will hold a man his size and girth, but not at all intimidating. Odd, considering his status and power, and yet Sabo finds he's not at all afraid of this man. Hasn't been for a little while now, if he's honest. It's a great feeling.

"I'm glad to see you're doing better, my boy," the captain says, and it's all Sabo can do not to flush at the endearment; still so foreign to him, even after nearly two weeks. "I heard most of the story from Marco once things calmed down – I've yet to speak to Ace, though I've a feeling the boys' avoiding me."

Sabo raises a brow. "Avoiding you? What for?"

The captain is silent for a moment, not long enough to rekindle any sort of fear but more than enough that he'll be pestering Ace for answers depending on the answer. Sure enough – "Nothing too important," the older man says with a careless shrug that's as transparent as glass, and _yep,_ Ace is getting interrogated. "But back to business. From what I've heard about you, Sabo, you scampered off without Fossa and Vista despite instructions to stay by them. Your recklessness nearly got you killed."

Sabo winces, looks down at his hand. Fingers clench the borrowed blankets thrown over his lap. "...yes, sir," he mumbles. "I'm s – _oof!"_

There's a heavy weight on his head and back – it's jarring, but only slightly, and the touch is firm but grounding, nothing at all like the abrasive, frigid hands of slavers, guards and cruel-minded servants. Sabo cranes his neck as much as he can to meet the endlessly warm amber eyes of the pirate captain. He's smiling under his mustache. "That being said, it also saved your brother's life," he adds, "despite the heart attack you damn near gave the rest of us. You acted bravely, in spite of your fears. I'm proud of you, son."

Sabo blanches, eyes wide as dinner plates.

 _Son?_

(Granted, that's also just a term of endearment, especially among older ones. It doesn't usually mean anything. But this is Whitebeard, a man who considers all on his crew as his family, his children no matter their blood. So does that mean...?)

He's blushing (again) with no hope of hiding it as Whitebeard removes his hand, chuckling heartily at the cherry-faced blond squirming with embarrassment, too stunned to conjure a coherent reply. "Still, we don't want anything like this happening again for the duration of your stay, acts of bravery aside," the man says. There's a hint of something in his voice, an undertone of lingering worry (anger?) and determination that Sabo's seen only a handful of times. "My commanders and I shall see to it that further measures are taken to ensure your safety from here onward. We won't coddle you by any means, nor will we confine you to the ship. Not that we could, I believe."

That earns a shy grin from Sabo, though no less mischievous. Seems they're finally catching on.

"In the meantime, you need your rest." Whitebeard stands after giving Sabo one last (gentle) pat on the back. "Whiskey will be by later to get you back to your cabin. Better you go to them than those two scallywags sneaking into the infirmary in the middle of the night. Something tells me they would."

Sabo snickers, casting the former embarrassment (and other warm, fuzzy feelings welling up in his chest) aside. "They really would," he admits. "...thank you, Captain. Sorry again for all the trouble."

Whitebeard shakes his head. "Don't apologize, boy. There's nothing you've done that needs forgiveness." He pauses then, tilts his head, considering. He strokes his chin, humming to himself in a manner that feels somewhat exaggerated. "Though perhaps, bringing a cat aboard without Marco's knowledge _might_ be a problem," he notes idly.

Ah, yes. _That_ little fact Ace had shared with him; Marco's ability to shift into an immortal Phoenix – a _bird,_ of all things _._ At least the 'Mama Bird' jokes makes sense now. However – "Does he hate cats that much?" Sabo asks. "I can make Ace tell him if –"

He's cut off when Whitebeard holds up a hand, his new grin incredibly impish. "Let him find out in his own time. It'll be a 'surprise'." He then presses a finger to his lips, winking. Failing to stifle a giggle, the fifteen-year-old mimics him with a finger to his own lips, nodding once.

(He's officially a partner in crime with _Whitebeard._ There's something so incredibly _cool_ about this, hilarious...and so ridiculously domestic, familial...something Sabo hasn't had in a long time with any but his brothers. Not ever with his own parents.)

With that, Whitebeard bids him farewell and takes his leave, dimming the lights and shutting the door behind him. Shuffling under the covers, Sabo hides his manic grin into his pillow. The guilt remains, but is overshadowed by the gleaming radiance that is this crew's concern, his brother's love, and Whitebeard's pride.

 _(So...this is what having a father feels like.)_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

The Whitebeard's haven't left Tundra yet.

Because of Sabo's injuries and the parties taking up most of their provisions, they've stayed docked to stock up until tomorrow. At least, that's what Ace told them when he'd asked Marco early; he'd gone to the galley to get dinner for himself and Luffy, while the pre-teen decided to stick with Sabo and their new cat – Kotatsu, what a cute name! – to keep them company.

(It's all he can do, really – play with animals, keep his brothers' company, make people laugh...only to screw it all up again in a single night.)

The Whitebeard's keep telling them they're not to blame for what happened. They got scared, some a little miffed that Luffy had managed to sneak off without anyone noticing, but none of them are angry. And it's...perplexing _,_ to Luffy. Because he'd messed up, big time – he'd nearly gotten his brother _killed_ because he'd tried to do something he _clearly_ wasn't ready to, because he'd been stupid, reckless –

(Because he shouted. Because he almost _spoke._ Bad things always, _always_ happen when he opens his big mouth, when he leaves his brothers' side. And he did it anyway, to prove himself, and he _failed._ _ **Spectacularly.**_ )

The three of them talk over dinner about it, about Luffy's intent and his demeanor as of late. Again, they emphasize how they're not mad, they don't blame him, even though they _have every right and reason_ to. He's not punished for it, either – not that they would dream of striking him, ever, not like that – Sabo hugs him with one arm, and Ace bops him on the head and tells him to think and _ask_ before he does something crazy.

The matter isn't settled, though. Luffy knows that much, sees it in the way his brothers trade discreet glances at one another as they lick their plates clean. It's not over, not by a long shot. Luffy wonders if that's a good thing, wonders what they're waiting for to pick it back up again.

Turns out, it comes much sooner than expected, and yet it really isn't much of a surprise.

The three of them turn in early once Thatch drops by to gather their plates (and give Kotatsu a good old belly rub) and pile into bed. Sabo's squished in the middle this time despite his protests – Luffy doesn't take no for an answer, and Ace all but traps the blond down with an arm, _daring_ him to argue again. Sabo wisely doesn't, and puts on a pout even as Luffy snuggles up to him. He gives after mere seconds, grinning and kissing Luffy's hair before settling in. Kotatsu makes his own bed on the floor at the foot of theirs, content for now on spare blankets until Izo (undoubtedly) fashions something better.

Ace and Sabo drop off within the hour, light snores filling the dark room illuminated only by moonlight. Luffy, however, remains awake. He stares up at the ceiling, counting the cracks and chips in the wood, listening to his brother's breathing, their hearts beating, the waves caressing the ship from under them...

…anything to drown out the sound of a gunshot, of Sabo's screams as he collapsed into the snow, stained red –

" _Mmn!"_ Luffy whimpers in agony, pressing his palms over his eyes and throbbing skull, gritting his teeth against a cry that'll wake his brothers. Kotatsu stirs once with a snort, but quickly settles.

 _Stop it. Stop thinking about it, go away go away._

But it won't go away. Won't ever go away. These thoughts, memories, will linger and fester and haunt him as the nightmares of _that_ place still do. They'll hang over his head forever, as a reminder that he isn't strong enough, smart enough, _good_ enough –

 _ **SHUT UP.**_

He sits up, blankets pooling around his waist as he covers his face with sweaty palms, fingers digging into his hair. It takes a minute, maybe more, maybe forever, but his hissing breaths eventually calm, his heart settles, and he can _think_ again. Arms flop uselessly to his sides, head tipped back as he sighs. He swallows hard, blinking back the start of tears. _Dammit._

Sabo shifts on Luffy's right, brows creased in something akin to mild confusion and irritation as his left hand sluggishly reaches blindly for something. Luffy finds out what it is when he reaches out and takes Sabo's hand, stroking his knuckles with the pad of this thumb, and the blond relaxes, content.

Luffy couldn't stop the silly smile from splitting his face if he tried, and squeezes Sabo's hand.

It's moments like this, his brothers around him, keeping him warm and safe and within reach where nothing and no one can touch him, that he's reminded of just how much he loves them. How much they love _him_.

How much they've given up for him, what they've had to suffer through for him back _there_ , and how _scared_ Luffy is that he couldn't protect them from _that place,_ from _them,_ from lowlife hunters or even from themselves.

(Ace can pull a smile through a bloody lip, laugh off a bleeding wrist or wave away bite-marks on his arms; Sabo can lie through bloody teeth and a hole in his shoulder, bow his head and beg for forgiveness with a _smile._ They can do what they like to protect their little brother from the truth. Luffy already knows, always has; maybe not right away, but he'll always figure it out.

It's bad enough they were always getting hurt, from beatings, exhaustion, abuse from entitled guards and servants. It's _worse_ knowing they went through it all for _him._ Almost as bad when Ace hurts himself on purpose to _forget,_ punish himself for things that are and never will be his fault.)

He's forced to snake his hand from Sabo's grip to clench his fist until it shakes, eyes blazing and stinging harder.

If he had the power, if given the chance or _when,_ there's no limit to how hard he'd fight to repay them for everything, the big and the small, the inconvenient and the _inconceivable_. If he can get stronger (and stronger and stronger and _stronger_ ) than anyone else, more than any hunter or guard or king or ruler of any kind, he can protect _them,_ draw _them_ into the circle of _his_ arms and keep them safe from the world that's already taken so much and seeks to take more.

Luffy can't let that happen. He might be weak now, scared even, maybe too scared to do much of anything (his enduring silence is an unkind reminder) but he swears he'll _try._ He'll try, he has to _try, he_ _ **promises**_ _he'll try_ because – because he _loves_ them, more than anything, they're all he has, and he _has to_ _ **try**_ –

"S'okay, Luffy," Ace's sleepy voice startles Luffy, and he looks over. The older teen sits up carefully, bleary eyes cracking open to meet Luffy's wide (and suddenly damp) pair. He lifts a hand, reaches over and gently wipes away the tears the boy hadn't realized were falling. "Don't cry. 'Bo 'n I are here," he says and then he smiles, a real one, stretching across his freckled face.

It's supposed to be a comfort, supposed to put Luffy back to sleep with peace in his heart and a smile on his face. Instead, more tears follow, his lip wobbling to contain the sobs that threaten to burst. Ace blinks rapidly, shock and concern creasing his features as he sits up proper, and Sabo snorts as he too is startled awake. "Luffy, what – what's wrong?" Ace asks, his voice low but soothing as he leans over Luffy. Luffy tries and fails to wipe away the tears but they keep coming, streaming like a waterfall, and now he's hiccuping for _god's sake –_

"Wass goin' on?" Sabo mumbles, rubbing his scarred eye with the heel of his free hand. He takes one look at Luffy and his eyes go wide. " _Luffy?"_

(It's as Ace is gathering Luffy into his arms, hushing him and stroking his hair, that Luffy realizes this isn't quite as sudden as he thinks. This has been building up for years and years, and only now, in the light of his latest screw up, does the dam finally burst. He's crying hard but silent against his brother – can't be too loud, he'll get in trouble and they'll get hurt again – scared and angry and hurt and _guilty,_ and now he can't stop _._ )

He pushes away from Ace just a little, meeting worried grey eyes through the blur of fat tears, his chest heaving with the occasional hiccup. 'I'm sorry', he signs with hands that shake.

Ace and Sabo share a look, brows furrowed. "Luffy, what –?"

Luffy ploughs on. 'I'm sorry I'm still so weak and scared all the time.' The tears come faster, harder, and he grits his teeth against the whimpering cries, anger so deep and hot that it _burns_ him from the inside out. His gestures become sharper, faster but jumbled. 'You always get hurt because of me, you hurt _always_ , scared, crying, hate it, sorry I'm weak, no talk, cry all the time, try harder, get strong, promise try harder, sorry sorry sorry –'

" _Luffy,_ Luffy shh," Sabo pulls Luffy into him and tucks his head under his chin. He runs his gentle hand down Luffy's back, kisses his hair. "Shh, it's okay, it's okay. You're okay, baby brother. Take deep breaths, you're okay. I've got you. I'm here, we're here, it's okay…"

He keeps murmuring in Luffy's ear, rocking them back and forth. Luffy's soft sobs diminish into helpless, hiccuping gasps as he hides his face in Sabo's chest. He feels Ace's hand rubbing circles along his back as he shuffles over. Again, they're protecting him without prompt or thought, without hesitation, because he's crying.

(Luffy loves them for it. And hates himself a little bit more for it.

All he does is cry. He cries, keeps silent, follows a princess on a leash and constantly gets his brothers in trouble. Ace's back was almost _obliterated_ because he'd screamed at a snobbish brat, Sabo was forced to get on his hands and knees and beg for his life over and over, and _still does,_ and all the while Luffy is still so _useless –_ )

"Luffy," Ace says, when Luffy's cries have simmered. "Luffy, look at me."

Sniffling, Luffy raises his head to meet Ace's eyes. They're bright and piercing, full of certainty and unbound love, and they're focused on Luffy alone. Hands come up to frame Luffy's face between calloused palms. "You don't have to apologize for anything. Nothing that happened back there was your fault, none of it, you understand?" Ace says. "You were only trying to do a good thing, and something happened that was out of your control. And you're not _weak,_ Luffy, you're not. What the hell made you think that?"

Luffy hiccups, shifting so that he can bring up his arms, still trembling. 'Didn't want to burden you,' he signs.

Sabo stiffens, and Ace goes deathly pale, hands slowly retracting from Luffy's face. "...what?" Ace breathes softly. "What the hell do you...?"

Reluctance and pain aside, Luffy knows he has to keep going. 'I thought I'd be fine on my own, thought I can't keep relying on you if I want to get stronger. So you can chase your dreams without me dragging you down because I'm still too weak –'

He's crushed into another embrace before he can finish, against a warm chest with an erratic heartbeat throbbing behind a rib-cage, fingers clenching the back of his shirt fiercely and a pair of legs wrapping around him to pull him closer still, all but trapping the boy. Luffy's tears soak into Ace's shirt, and he can't move let alone look up as Ace's forehead comes to rest atop Luffy's head. This close, Luffy can hear the older teens breath hitch brokenly. "...you...you don't mean that, Lu," Ace croaks. There's a muffled sniff behind Luffy, and he knows with mounting horror that Sabo's already on the way to crying, no doubt as broken-hearted as Ace sounds. "You don't – is _that_ why you left on your own? Did we make you believe that? Did... _I_ make you believe you're too weak? That we don't want you around?"

Terror seizes him anew, and Luffy vehemently shakes his head – _no, no of course not,_ you _didn't make me think anything, I know you love me, but..but I...I just –_

"Oh, Luffy." Sabo completes the entrapment by coming up behind Luffy, laying his head on the pre-teen's shoulder, his only arm snaking around both Luffy and Ace, holding tight and desperate. Luffy's shoulder quickly dampens, and Sabo's shoulders shake. "Don't say things like that," he says, his voice thick but steady. "Don't ever, _ever_ think you're holding us back, or that you're weak or helpless because you're _not._ You're not, Luffy." A sniff, followed by a wet chuckle. "If anything, you're the strongest of us all."

Luffy blinks hard. _What?_

They draw back enough so that Ace can lift Luffy's chin with a finger. Silver eyes are glossier than normal, but no tears fall – Luffy knows Ace won't let them, ever, not even around the only ones who'll understand. "You listen to me, Monkey D. Luffy," he says, low and firm but not unkind. "You're the _only_ thing that kept me and Sabo sane all these years. You were just as scared as us, all the time. You never even spoke – you still don't – but you never stopped smiling or laughing or signing a dumb joke to make _us_ feel better. Without you, Luffy...I don't think either of us would've made it one year let alone five."

Ace smiles, watery but real, and bumps his forehead against Luffy's. "You're the brightest thing in our lives, Luffy. We'd be lost without you. So don't _ever_ think you're a burden. You're strong, and we'll help you get stronger. We'll _all_ get stronger, together, enough to chase our dreams. We'll help _each other._ That's what brothers do."

Luffy's eyes well up again. He feels a sob threatening to tear its way out of him, though he fights it with all he has as he leans back from Ace and turns to Sabo. His cheeks are flushes, eyes damp and swirling with unbound love. He chuckles. "It's the truth," he says. "You'll _never_ be a burden to us. _Never,_ little brother. We love you. Okay?"

And _that,_ the conviction and certainty leaving no room for argument or doubt, is what finally pitches Luffy over the edge. It's too much, he can't take it, can't hold it in –

He throws himself at Ace's chest and _wails_ , loud, messy, unrestrained sobs wracking hard from his core. His brothers surround him and simply hold him, letting him cry. Even Kotatsu pounces onto the bed and curls around them, pawing at Luffy's bare leg like a comforting pat.

(Luffy doesn't stop crying, can't, for what feels like the longest time even as his sobs die and fade into whimpers. Through it all, Ace and Sabo don't let him go even once. They stick by him like they always have. Like they always will.

It suddenly doesn't feel like such a bad thing anymore.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

While the rest of the crew sleeps on, due to early turn ins or the intoxication (wholly unsurprising but who is Edward to judge?), the captain himself gathers his commanders to the meeting room once more, each seated in their respective places. The air is grim but not quite dire, though still a stark contrast to the former merrymaking above decks. And rightly so, Edward thinks, for now is the time to make yet another decision concerning their youngest charges in light of this recent...incident.

The boys are fine and recovering, thank the sea. But it's yet another horrifying ordeal they've had to suffer. Something that could and should have easily been prevented...

"Whether they trust us completely or not, it's clear now that the boy's have gotten a little more comfortable around us in the last week, yoi," Marco says at the head of the table, standing as always at Whitebeard's right hand. The man's face grows somewhat grim at his next words, words Edward is sure no one wants to hear. "I know the unanimous decision was to let them set the pace, make sure they don't feel trapped or forced to do anything they don't feel comfortable doing...however, in doing so, we've failed to prepare them for the danger they might face whether they're aboard ship or exploring the towns."

He folds his arms over his chest to hide his clenching fists. "Regardless of Luffy's reasons for leaving the ship, I think we can agree that what happened yesterday is on us. We promised to protect them, but that includes teaching them how to properly defend themselves. We've failed to do even that, and Sabo and Luffy nearly paid the price, yoi."

There are nods all around, murmurs of agreement. There's hurt, too, in Thatch's furrowed brows and Haruta's fidgeting as the Twelfth Commander glares at the table. Izo's nails bite into his palms, and Namur bears his teeth in a scowl. It's no secret that most if not all of them in this room alone have grown close to the young trio – Marco, Thatch and Izo especially, having spent the most time and effort in breaking down their walls. No doubt this pains them greatly, more so knowing they could have helped in preventing such an incident at all.

Alas, it wasn't until recently that even Edward learned of their standing with the once cautious boys. Until yesterday they've been all but tiptoeing about the children, testing the waters, letting them warm up to the pirates gradually. Hell, they'd been more concerned about them _leaving_ than the idea of training them at all, regardless of how long they chose to stay aboard.

There are times in his life in which Edward wants to smack himself upside the head for his own idiocy. This is most certainly one of those times.

"Well, now's as good a time as any to get crackin'," Rakuyo says, and all eyes befall him. "I say we ask 'em tomorrow bright 'n early, straight up, no more walkin' on eggshells'; the kids sure as hell don't need to be coddled. They're on regular diets – well, sorta – and they got their strength back. Nothin' keepin' 'em from getting' right to it."

"I agree. But bear in mind that Sabo is still injured," Vista says, twirling his mustache around a finger, "and haven't we already seen how rushing things can lead to disaster? Besides, who knows if any of them will even be up for it."

"Something tells me they will be," Curiel offers, and he shrugs. "I mean, you saw the way they were when they first came aboard. Little bastards were damn near ready to cut a bitch once Pops let them loose. They've still got the fighting spirit. And didn't Sabo say he took _three_ guys down with a branch? Damn impressive."

"For sure," Haruta says, the beginnings of a hopeful smile on his boyish features. "They already know how to fight, or at least have basic knowledge, and they're more than willing to beat the holy hell outta anyone dumb enough to cross their path. I say we go for it. The sooner the better, right?"

More nods, the mood growing lighter with every suggestion. Even Marco's cracking a smile now, sharing a look with the old captain on his left. Edward nods once, smiling back. _We're stepping things up a bit,_ he thinks. _We're pushing forward now, as we should be._

"First things first, however," Izo says over the growing clamor of eager suggestions, and all fall dutifully silent. "We need to _ask_ them before jumping the gun based on our own assumptions, as we've established, and to take into account what experience they might have already, and whether we can expand on that or if we have to start with the basics."

Edward nods once at Izo; a valid point indeed. The last thing they want is to undermine them due to their...'upbringing' or overestimate them based on assumptions. Better still, two of them are devil fruit users while Sabo is, as far as one can tell, a regular teenager; Ace and Luffy must learn how to properly handle their powers – especially one as potentially dangerous as Ace's and as odd and unpredictably chaotic as Luffy's – whereas Sabo must utilize what skills or resources he has at his disposal, like a weapon. Maybe Namur can even teach the lad Fishman Karate once he's up to it. Seeing how attached he is to the Fishman already, surely he'll be ecstatic.

"It seems that in order to see where we must start," Kingdew declares, "we must find a means of putting them to the test. Allow them to show us what they already know without pressuring them, or making them feels as though they must put on a show for our entertainment."

A dark look crosses Marco's eyes at that, as a few others, remembering all too well of a certain freckled lad's experience with 'shows' and the like. And his own.

"Absolutley, yoi," the Phoenix man agrees, and then cranes his neck to regard Edward. "What do you think, Pops?"

Edward strokes his chin, humming to himself. He _may_ have an idea, risky though it might be for the boys and his commanders. But his children are strong, this he knows well. And it'll help keep them on their toes, if nothing else.

"Devil fruits, no matter the power, all have the potential to be dangerous," he begins. All eyes are on him, eager and waiting. "The only limit is that of the user's strength and imagination, in most cases. A mere display won't be enough for us to determine their true strength and ability. A first-hand encounter in the heat of combat, however..."

Thoughtful silence fills the room, brows furrowing and fingers drumming on the table. Edward waits for the penny to drop.

And when it does, it's _glorious._

Thatch is the first, damn near shooting out of his chair as he whirls on Edward with wide eyes. "You – you mean you –" he stammers, and the other pennies finally hit the ground as the remaining commanders slowly turn to their captain. The captain raises his brows, grinning.

They all _blanch_.

"No," Thatch says.

"Yes," Edward says.

"Pops, _no,"_ Jiru begs.

"Pops, _yes."_

"You can't be serious!" Namur groans.

Edward tilts his head, cocks a brow. "What do you mean, son? I'm always serious."

" _NO YOU'RE FREAKING NOT!"_ they all yell in unison, arms flapping like they're ready to take after Marco and fly away. " _What about all the damn dad jokes?!"_

Edward finally gives in and throws his head back to laugh uproariously, much to the chagrin of his children, accepting their fate. Like Marco (who merely shakes his head with a long-suffering sigh) they know it's useless to argue with their father once his mind is made. Ah, but his children never cease to amuse him in their attempts, no matter how futile.

"Seriously, Pops, you can't just _do_ this!" Thatch whines like a boy half his age, fingers gripping his hair in a dramatic display of despair that only Thatch can (and does) achieve. "You can't sick a _fire Logia_ and Elasta-boy on us, _plus_ a wildcard with the scariest damn glare I've ever seen in my life! Ace can literally set me on fire with a snap of his finger – and what if Sabo uses _knives_ , or crushes people with his bare hands? Oh _god_ – what if he actually _does_ have devil fruit powers and can summon an army of _spiders_ with his _mind?!"_

"Thatch, dude, _shut the hell up!_ " Namur cries, covering his ears and shaking his head wildly. Izo and Vista, both with known phobias to insects (and arachnids) look green in the face, the others no doubt thinking of other interminable varieties of outlandish devil fruit abilities they've heard over the years. Not all of them are funny, or at all pleasant.

Edward laughs again. _'Seasoned pirates' indeed._

" _Regardless,"_ Marco calls over the noise, (stifling what Edward knows is a reluctant grin at his siblings' plight) regaining their attention, "one-on-one sparring matches are probably the best course of action, yoi. Done right, no one will get seriously hurt, won't make them feel like test subjects, help us all in the long run with setting boundaries on and off ship, and determine who's best to train who and how. It'll be risky, especially with a young Logia like Ace with very little experience, but this is for their benefit."

Blue eyes narrow, firm and electrified with an inherited determination that lights a proud spark in Edward's heart. "What happened to Sabo and Luffy _cannot_ happen again. They're not members of our crew officially, but we promised to protect them, help them. That means teaching them, or helping them relearn how protect themselves in every way they can, yoi."

Earlier mirth aside, Edward sends Marco a nod – carefully withholding the apple and tree quip burning the tip of his tongue – and turns to the rest of the table, having since collected themselves from whatever prissy thoughts and fears they had. "Now, are we all clear on what must be done?"

A unanimous nod, and all rise from their seats. "Aye, Captain," fourteen voices chorus, not a hint of hesitation.

Edward is so damn proud.

"Good. Dismissed."

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N~ HELLO! So sorry for the delay, RL is kicking my butt right now. This chapter's a little shorter than the last, but hey, there's a good ol' surprise at the end for ya! Specia mentions to -  
**

 **Wordlet - Thanks so much for the review! Don't worry about little Loof, he's gonna be okay :)**

 **Fyuu - Thank you so much! I think you'll like the end then if that's how you feel about a certain character :)**

 **Kippysaurus - thanks my dear! I do love Thatch's spontaneous imagination XD**

 **Saringold - YES! Emotional strength is just as important! Thanks for the review!**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - I hate/love writing crying scenes because I hurt too DX Thanks for the review!**

 **bpv229 - Sorry I slapped you! XD Thank you, dear :)**

 **CanIHaveAHug - NO, NOT CARDIAC ARREST! Please adopt Mei, she loves you too :)**

 **nanigirl15 - what a freaking cute story :D**

 **Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I appreciate every single one of you! And with that, on with the chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. SERIOUSLY, I'M BROKE AS HELL.**

 **Enjoy :)**

 ***Kingdom Hearts reference XD**

* * *

 **Chapter 19**

The brothers manage to sleep through the night once Luffy's tears subside. It was a struggle, though, for Sabo despite his exhaustion – Luffy's words, his tears and his fears brought to life through heaving sobs, have since been burned into Sabo's brain, plaguing his dreams. No doubt Ace suffered the same, restless through the night even as they clung tight to Luffy, to each other, safe from the fears spoken into existence whether verbal or otherwise.

It's daunting, and yet a eye-opener that's been sorely needed.

They've been putting it off for too long, growing too comfortable among burly pirates and Whitebeard's protective shadow. Now the next step must be taken in order for them to truly sever their chains, to advance seeking freedom, more so now that they've decided to stay at least until they reach Sabaody (whatever that is. Is it and island? Perhaps he'll ask Namur, or look it up in the library later – oh yes, they have a freaking _**library**_ here.)

The Whitebeard's are only _one_ of the most powerful pirates on these seas, the part of the Grand Line they all call 'Paradise'; the New World is much worse, or so he's heard. If that's where they're going, they need to be prepared. Sitting on their asses or getting them kicked by measly _hunters_ is nothing short of humiliating, and will only serve to demotivate them further...and what happened to Luffy last night, what Ace did to himself out of guilt and fear, will happen again and again.

Sabo glares at the ceiling, his free hand gently carding through Luffy's hair where the boy's head rests over his heart, Ace on his other side with his fingers interlocked with Luffy's. Both are fast asleep, unaware of the determination surging through the blonde's veins anew. They'd promised themselves, promised each other, that they'd get stronger. So they will. Whatever it takes. And though it may push some boundaries (though where _are_ they in this crew?), Sabo has an idea...

Eventually, he pries his eyes from the ceiling – he swears there's a new crack up there that looks like a lizard – to find the sun gleaming obnoxiously bright through the porthole. The soft cacophony of men and women already at work is a dull thing amid his brothers' (and Kotatsu's) snoring. The crew must be preparing to set sail from Tundra now, fully stocked from the fiasco that was Christmas only two, (three?) days ago...and Sabo's 'glad you're okay' party. The very thought of that has something so incredibly warm surge through him, and it's _way_ too early to be feeling such mushy things. Then again what time _is_ it? Certainly breakfast has come and gone –

 _Knock, knock._

"Yo! You kids awake in there yet? It's me, your ol' pal Thatch and Mr. Pineapple – _**ouch**_ _– Marco,_ jeez!"

Sabo can't help but grin. Thatch is truly a blessing.

The racket outside rouses his brothers awake with disgruntled snorts and confused mumbles – but it's the smell of food Luffy truly wakes to, eyes popping wide and his lips splitting into a mile wide grin – like the pain and tears of hours prior were little more than a bad dream – as Thatch and Marco enter the cabin, casual grace and easy smiles that have yet to fail to assure the boys. Leaves little wonder as to how the three of them have grown so fond of the commanders in so little time.

Thatch dramatically presents their breakfasts (evidently it's not quite as late in the day as Sabo imagined) and sets it on the bed for them once they shuffle from under the blankets. Ace has to help Sabo sit up, much to his chagrin, difficult as it is to maneuver with one arm; thank god he's ambidextrous, so he doesn't need to be fed or further babied by his older brother, who would no doubt take _immense_ delight out of any opportunity to embarrass his twin. Bastard.

It's only when Marco saunters into the room with confidence that Sabo remembers, _pales,_ and desperately thinks – _Where the hell is Kotatsu?_

He looks frantically around the bed, around the room, seeing nothing, not even clumps of fur. Ace catches on a moment later and then follows suit with wide, panicked eyes, the commanders regarding them oddly, Luffy freaking _snickering when they need help because Kotatsu might_ _ **actually eat**_ _Marco –_

"Hey," Marco says, stepping close enough to sit on the bed on Sabo's left, eyes warring gentle concern. "You alright, yoi? You look a little pale, do I need to call the nurse –?"

" _Mrow."_

They freeze. Sabo shuts his eyes and grits his teeth against a groan.

Marco's sleepy eyes widen to a comical degree. He slowly turns and peers over the edge of the bed, lower still when he sees nothing. A beat, and then a fuzzy paw pokes from the darkness beneath their bed, brushing Marco's sandalled foot.

Another pause. Marco stares.

Kotatsu's head emerges from under the bed, and wide eyes meet Marco's. _"...Mrow."_

" _CAT!"_ Marco squawks – freaking _squawks –_ blue flames bursting from his body in a blinding flash, and then he's across the room in a single bound, squatting on the desk with fiery talons in place of human feet.

The Phoenix stands before them, fiery feathers of cobalt puffed up fearfully, wings spread as far as they'll go in the cabin's confines, wide eyes fixed on the feline beneath the bed – it's the first Sabo's seen of Marco's Phoenix form, and were it anywhere else in any other situation, he'd find it fascinating, incredible, even beautiful. A bird of _legend_ in all it's glory, right in front of him.

Instead, he's giggling as hard as Thatch is laughing, loud and wild with tears leaking down his cheeks as he hugs his stomach and wheezes. Ace shoves his face into a pillow to muffle his laughter – it doesn't work – shoulders shaking with mirth, and Luffy joins Kotatsu and Thatch on the floor, laughing hard enough that they rock over the edge of the bed and careen over the side with dual screeches, taking half the blanket with him. Marco, evidently unable to talk in his bird form, squawks and hisses in what might be annoyance, talons scraping the desk – luckily, they don't bite too deep into the wood.

Amid it all, Kotatsu remains confused.

This is going to take a little – okay, a _lot_ of explaining on their part, and maybe some apologizing. It might even make negotiating and/or convincing what Sabo has in mind a little harder with Marco as pissed as he seems. All in all, however, it's not the worst way to start the morning.

(Following the events of last night and every moment prior, Sabo thinks, really, it's the _best_ way.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Pops is laughing at him. Of _course_ he's laughing at him.

But Marco doesn't pout, sitting on the arm of the old man's chair in full view of the milling crew (most if not all not-so-subtly grinning at Marco's plight and their father's boisterous laughter). He absolutely _doesn't_ pout _._ No, he merely folds his arms in a stubborn cross over his chest, frowning deep and hard at the old captain as he seems to bust a gut in his amusement at Marco's expense, despite said prior situation being anything _less_ than amusing.

...okay, he's pouting, but his pride will not allow him to admit the fact.

Funnily enough, Pops does it for him. "Oh don't give me that look Marco," he says once his mirth subsides, though he's still grinning from ear to ear, so Marco believes him as far as he can throw him – spoiler alert: it's not very far. "You have to admit, it's a _little_ funny."

"It really isn't, Pops," Marco growls. "You know the phoenix and I aren't big fans of cats, and it certainly doesn't help that at least _four_ other commanders, and _you_ , neglected to warn me of any of this before you made the decision to give the kids a pet, yoi!"

Pops has the absolute _gall_ to quirk an innocent brow at his eldest. "Why on earth would I do that, Marco? As your captain and father, it wouldn't do to ruin such a wonderful surprise."

A sleepy eye twitches. "I hate you all."

The crazy old bastard laughs again, and Marco gives up, dropping the not-pout and uncurling from his defensive posture to recline against the chair, leaning back on his hands and letting a leg dangle over the edge of the arm, swinging idly back and forth. He sighs, letting his ire fade and blow away with the light wind.

(It really isn't that big a deal, in all fairness; Marco's dislike of cats is not so much his own feelings but yet another unsuspected inheritance from the Phoenix, a vicious bird of prey and yet preyed upon by creatures just as vicious, namely those with claws and fangs. She couldn't quite handle the scare, and thus embarrassed them both in front of three, very impressionable teenagers and his idiot of a brother who, of course, spreads the story across the ship like wildfire before Marco can get his hands on him. Damn Thatch to hell. So much for trying to look cool for the new kids.)

He casts his gaze across the ship and out to the endless expanse of blue beyond her rails. They've finally set sail from Tundra – on good terms despite the debacle with the hunters, thank goodness – and are well on their way to Sabaody once more, albeit with a slight delay. They'll be approaching warmer waters soon, another island about two weeks away bearing tropical weather; it's uninhabited, unnamed, but one can't be too careful, not even in Paradise. Grand Line islands are as unpredictable as their waters, after all. There's no telling what trouble they might find, what shenanigans his family will no doubt get up to.

Still, it might be a good spot for another brief break, and a blessing for those who've had to put up with the harsh winter island for an extra two days. The sun and beach will do them good. The kids especially. They'll be delighted by the sand and sun, surely.

"At any rate," Whitebeard says, finally over the apparent hilarity of Marco's undignified scare, "it's good to know the little rascals are doing fine. Better still to hear of their enthusiasm for combat training." He chuckles to himself, leaning back in his chair. The tubes and medical equipment jostle lightly at his movement but never once stop pumping, and Marco _dares_ them to _._ "I'd hoped, and yet I'm still surprised, more so that Sabo was the first to ask before you even made the offer. Seems those brats will never stop being full of surprises."

Marco cracks a smile. "I agree. Though I suppose we should've seen this coming, yoi. After all, they didn't escape that hell hole by twiddling their thumbs, waiting to be rescued, and I doubt that's changed. Not even Sabo will stand idle now even if we begged him – he's as rearing and ready to go as his brothers." His smile broadens until it pushes the edge of a grin. "Those kids, I swear."

"They're certainly not the type to stand still, even for a moment," Pops says, and then gives pause. The air about him is considering, thoughtful. Marco looks up at him, but man's golden eyes are cast above, watching the clouds roll by and the seagulls screech and chase each other. His new smile is soft, reminiscent. He looks every bit his age in that moment, and yet his former youth shines through like the rays of the sun.

"Reminds me of Roger, back in our day," he says. Marco turns to face him proper like a child eager for a story from their parent – and Whitebeard's stories are indeed entertaining, downright enthralling if Marco's honest; he lived in the years spanning the reign of Gol D. Roger after all, the King of the Pirates. Any story from that man's greatest rival is bound to be a good one.

"That old bastard never seemed to stop to take a breath," Pops recalls, the deep bass of his voice tinted with a fondness one might carry for an old friend rather than a rival, an enemy. "Picking fights left and right, grinning and hollering like nobody's business, like nothing else in the world mattered but the sea beneath his ship, the wind in his sails, his crew at his side for all that they were a bunch of rookie scallywags and a pair of foul-mouthed brats at the time. Reckless and careless as anything. But when he set his sights on something he wanted, needed...nothing short of hellfire could stand in his way. Not the Navy, not death itself."

Whitebeard grins once more, and meets Marco's curious gaze. "Those boys have the same spark in them that Roger had."

Marco blinks. "You think so?"

"I _know_ so, my boy. Don't deny it, you've seen it yourself. The strength, the same will that took the world by a storm and left it in shambles for the Government to clean up. It resides within those boys today. Such wandering souls caught by the cruel hands of fate only to emerge from darkness with their hearts still intact* is something seldom seen, a once in a lifetime thing." He chuckles. "Almost makes an old-timer like me worry about the fate of the world when such souls are set loose with no chains barring their path. Give them a few years, and they'll shake things up so hard the world will never know what hit it."

It's Marco's turn to laugh, despite his awe of this man and his unending insight and wisdom. When he's not busy poking fun at him, that is. "I'll bet. Wouldn't be surprised if they're all D's if _Roger's_ the first person you think of, yoi."

Pops shrugs, feigning innocence. "I have my suspicions. None of which I'll confirm or deny at this moment in time."

"Cryptic old man."

"Have respect for your elders, brat." Pops carefully pats Marco on the back with a giant hand, earning a wry grin from the First Commander. "I believe Ace and Luffy's introductions are starting soon. Report back to me when you've finished."

"Aye, Captain." With that, he hops off the armrest, landing without a hitch in his stride and sauntering off to meet up with the kids and five other commanders below decks.

The Moby has one training room, but it's blessedly spacious, sturdy for devil fruit eaters, heavy lifters and reckless idiots alike, and a better place to start on the boys' training without risk of anyone falling overboard, and avoid any possible misunderstandings. Comfortable though they may be around certain members of the crew – the issue with Teach has yet to be resolved, the man has a habit of disappearing sporadically for personal missions – the last thing they want is to give the boys the impression they're putting on a 'show', exposing them to the crew or even embarrass them.

(Not to mention the first few days of training are always the worst. Marco can attest to this.)

Concerns both past and present aside, Marco finds himself looking forward to this. Two new devil fruit wielders complete with their own brand of crazy that the Whitebeard's haven't seen in quite a while, and a wildcard of a boy who'll soon have his turn.

" _Those boys have the same spark in them that Roger had."_

Marco's grin widens. Much like his father, he too is looking forward to watching these kids grow, to see just how good they'll shake this world up.

He can hardly wait.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Okay, little man, settle down and keep still for a spell, will you?" the Fourteenth Commander – Jiru, right? – does his best to calm the bouncing rubber ball of energy down and only slightly succeeds by placing his hands on the boy's slim shoulders. Luffy's beaming hard enough that he might burst, vibrating with unbridled excitement. Not that Ace can blame him. Hell, the only thing keeping him from following Luffy's lead is that he's the older brother and thus has to set an example for the younger two in demonstrating patience, restraint.

Not at all because the commanders are watching. Don't be ridiculous.

Still, this is all as exciting as it is a little daunting. They're going to train under the Whitebeard pirates. He can hardly believe it, resisting the urge to pinch himself lest it truly be a dream come true. They're going to _train_ again, spar and fight and learn (or in this case re-learn) how to fend for themselves.

So nothing like what happened to Sabo and Luffy...what happened to all of them all those years ago, will _ever_ happen again.

(It's sick, yet ironic, that Ace has that bastard husk of a King of all people to thank for the extra ammunition his devil fruit grants him. His control of said powers are shaky at best, especially in large bursts. But with proper training and discipline, nothing and no one will even get _close_ to taking them, imprisoning them – _enslaving them –_ again. They'll have a literal hell to pay otherwise.)

But before they get started on anything too intense, the commanders want to see what they have to work with, where the brothers are lacking and need to improve, and what they don't. A test, if you will. Boo.

For this, they've gathered five commanders to observe – Marco, Thatch, Haruta, Jiru and Fossa – and have taken the boys below decks to their training room; nothing big but not cramped, despite the walls lined with weaponry and weights and the like scattered about the space in organized chaos. Ace casts a glance at a set of weights and privately laments how he'd once been able to lift something of that size, maybe bigger. Who knows if five years spent withering away in hell have halved the strength he'd once had as a ten-year-old.

Sabo has to sit this one out, but he'd insisted that he at least get to watch Ace and Luffy so he's not completely left out of the loop. The commanders eventually relented, and now he sits on a bench beside Ace, observing from a safe distance.

Luffy is up first, to test his devil fruit's abilities.

Marco hasn't yet delved into too much detail on the subject, but the gist of it is that devil fruits are separated into different types; Paramecia, Logia and Zoan. Luffy is among the former, meaning his type of fruit grants its users abilities which affect their body, manipulate their surroundings or produce substances. Luffy's power is certainly odd, turning his body to rubber and allowing him to stretch beyond human limits, something none of the Whitebeard's have truly experienced until today.

Ace can't help but grin, a wide, cheeky thing that he shares with Sabo. They're in for a treat.

Speed Jiru deems Luffy still enough to begin, and clears his throat. "Alright Luffy, let's start off nice and simple. You see that guy over there?" He points to another pirate standing across the room, a volunteer for today's training; he waves when Luffy beams at him. "That's Wilhelm, from my division. For now, I need you to stretch your arm as far as you can to see if you can reach him, just to get a rough idea on your reach. Think you can manage?"

Luffy blinks at him once. Then the grin that splits his lips is _devilish_ , already has Ace and Sabo stifling cackles, much to the confusion of the other commanders and poor Wilhelm, who shuffles where he stands as if debating whether or not to run away.

Jiru appears to rethink his decisions, dread in his eyes when Luffy spreads his feet and rears his arm back, grinning madly. "Uh, um, wait hold on a sec – Luffy _wait –!"_

ignoring the commander, Luffy lets his arm fly. It stretches across the room at lightning speed, his palm _slamming_ into the other pirate's face. Wilhelm screams as he's sent flying, crashing into the opposite wall and rattling the weapons and the very room with the impact. Wilhelm slides down to the floor with a pitiful groan, eyes spinning.

Luffy lets his arm snap back into place and spins jubilantly on his heel to face Jiru, thoroughly pleased with himself. Jiru stares at the smaller boy, mouth agape, eyes wide as saucers.

Behind them, Ace and Sabo are already in hysterics, the present commanders – even Marco – not even attempting to stifle their own laughter. While Ace does feel sorry for the poor bastard they've used as a glorified test dummy, Jiru's expression as it dawns on him just how much he's underestimated their little brother (unintentionally) is more than worth it. And it's the first time Luffy's managed to land a hit with his bare hands, despite the lapse in training. Ace would be proud, incredibly so, were he not half delirious with laughter and leaning against Sabo for support. Not that the blond is much help in that regard, tears streaming down his scarred face as he wheezes for breath.

God, Ace loves his baby brother.

The laughter subsides eventually, allowing a grinning Fossa to hurry over and collect their injured crew-mate from his ungraceful heap and whisk him out of the room, no doubt to see to that bloody nose. Once they're gone, Jiru clamps his gaping maw shut and turns to Luffy, the pre-teen tilting his head expectantly as if to ask how he did. Like a puppy dog, seeking its owners approval.

The Fourteenth commander regards Luffy for a moment, contemplating, and then turns back to his grinning 'audience', his expression flat as a pancake. He spreads his arms wide – "Gentlemen, I wash my hands of this weirdness."

Laughter resumes. Luffy, hopelessly confused, laughs right along with them.

 _'Never change, little brother,'_ Ace thinks. _'Never change.'_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Once it's clear Luffy's abilities are and always will be inexplicably weird (the commanders had drawn the _line,_ through yet another laughing fit that had even Jozu in tears by the end of it, when Luffy blew himself up like a balloon and started rolling around the room), Marco calls Ace up next.

The freckled youth won't dare admit it, not out loud, but he's suddenly hit by a wave of nerves as he follows Marco to the center of the room. Of course, he'd been more than prepared to grapple with (maybe eve kill) the commander when they were desperate enough (scared, crazy enough) to take on even an Emperor if it meant their freedom. The idea that he might lose – no, the _fact_ that he _would_ lose, undoubtedly slaughtered by the hands of this pirate and his comrades hadn't bothered Ace at all, had barely registered; all he cared about were, and still are, his brothers' safety and freedom.

This is different. It's a test, of sorts, a chance for Ace to show Marco, show them all, what he's truly made of without the looming threat of death. A very different kind of show to what he's grown used to. He's more than fine with that.

(And yet at the same time, he's _terrified_ of disappointing Marco, all of them. Lord only knows when he'd even begun to seek for their approval whatsoever, but the need is there...no doubt ingrained into him after years of needing to please others simply to survive.)

Marco turns to face him, looks him up and down once and cracks a smile. "No need to look so tense, kid," he says, hands on his hips. "I'm not gonna kill you, yoi."

Ace blinks once, twice, and realizes just how wound up he really is when he lets his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he's been holding for about a minute. Marco chuckles, and red tints Ace's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "...right," he mutters, ducking his head a little. He hears Luffy and Sabo snicker behind him, and only just stays his hand from flipping them a bird over his shoulder. This is serious business. No getting distracted by pesky little brothers.

Shaking his head fondly at the exchange, Marco continues. "Alright, first things first. I assume you already have some experience in combat?"

Opting to ignore his brothers, Ace nods. "Yeah. We, uh...we used to spar a lot back on our home island, the three of us." He shrugs. "Mostly just hand to hand brawls, things like that. A hundred fights per person per day."

Another smile, somewhat reminiscent, fond. Of what, Ace has no idea, and Marco clearly has no plans to share. "Good," the man says instead. "Aside from your devil fruit, are there any other methods of combat you've used, and who did you train with, yoi? Was it always just the three of you?"

There's a flash before Ace's eyes – a grin etched across an aged face, careless and wide and familiar; grey hair and a scar marring the left side of his face, carved in a wide arc into wrinkled skin, broad shoulders clad in horrendously colorful shirts; a booming laugh that echoed for miles, striking fear into the hearts of all who heard it and yet a source of occasional comfort, a semblance of safety, part of an odd if not broken family no matter their blood or the distance between them, be it islands or whole worlds away...

Ace shakes his head, shaking the old memories with it, too painful to yet recall. There's one hefty barrel they're not quite ready to crack, if ever, so Ace leaves it sealed for now. "We...mostly trained ourselves. We used to fight with pipes, too," he explains, "usually against bandits, washed-up pirates in trash heaps and the occasional giant bear or gator. Giant tigers, too, if we got lucky. We got to eat whatever we brought back."

Marco pauses, stares at Ace like he's grown a second head. "...sorry, what?" he says, ignoring the start of yet more snickering among his commanders. "What do you mean by...y'know what, never mind, I don't even wanna know." He shakes his head again and pinches the bridge of his nose, evidently coming to terms with the fact that the brothers didn't have a normal childhood even before they were taken.

Ace feels oddly proud of that, and grins over his shoulder at his brothers. They beam right back.

The blond commander finally sighs, (probably in an effort to cast aside the image of three tiny children taking down creatures five times their size) lifts his head and then shifts his stance, wide and steady. A stance Ace knows all too well, and his prior mirth dwindles. "Okay. We'll have a little one on one to start with, no devil fruits," Marco says. His eyes are hard, but not unkind when they lock with Ace's; determined, but lacking the familiar blood-lust. "You come at me with everything you have, yoi. Don't worry if you mess up, but don't hold back, alright?s"

Ace squares his shoulders with a nod, shifting his posture to mirror Marco's. He swallows thickly, a new mantra ringing loud in his ears in time to the rapid beating of his heart – _this is just a friendly spar, a test. He's not going to kill me. It's okay if I mess up. I haven't fought anyone in a while. It's okay._

He shuts his eyes, breathing in deep through his nose. He banishes the looming shadows of guards with spears and chains and clubs, soulless eyes and vile grins daring him to fight back, daring him to cry out as they beat into the exposed flesh of his back, as they branded him and his brothers with searing irons...

 _It's okay. It's just Marco. It's a spar, like we did back when we were little. It's okay._

 _It's okay._

His eyes snap open, and he charges Marco.

Marco's ready for him, and blocks the first solid punch with his forearm. The commander blinks, surprised, and then grins wide and sharp at Ace. " _Damn_ ," he grunts, then shoves Ace backwards; Ace isn't deterred nor stumbled, ducking under Marco's sweeping leg and straightening quickly to deliver a jab – blocked – a left hook – evaded – then spinning on one foot and striking with the other – bare miss.

Jozu, Haruta and Thatch are cheering Ace on as the two to go at it, Sabo's voice among the loudest of them. Luffy's excited laughter rings out as he claps. It spurs Ace on, adrenaline pumping through his veins with a vengeance, a surge he hasn't felt since their escape nearly two weeks ago – has it only been that long? – and the surprise and pride shining in Marco's eyes even as he blocks and parries nearly every jab and kick...

Ace's heart _soars._

He feels _alive_ again.

But Marco's not breaking a sweat while Ace is already panting, curls of damp hair hanging in his eyes. This is only a spar, Ace knows, but admits he's got a competitive streak a mile wide, rivaled only by Sabo; he needs to land a hit on the commander, take him utterly by surprise, which seems impossible. The man for some reason knows every move Ace makes before he even makes it – almost like how Ace can sense people, _feel_ them nearby before he sees or hears them, that _other_ sense tingling the back of his neck like a warning alarm. He wonders...

But he doesn't dwell, because he's figured it out. Ace's style, though effective, is admittedly elementary, predictable. Anyone off the street knows at least half of what Ace does, and an older pirate who's fought _wars_ knows much more – hence why Ace hasn't bothered to pull any moves the old man drilled into his brain; it might be more than a little awkward to explain away Navy tactics to pirates.

But what Mei taught him...Ace has never seen it before. Never has anyone moved with such grace or _ferocity_ as she did when they were on stage together, a dance of invisible blades and punishing blows to unseen foes, a whirlwind of movement unmatched, unconquered, piercing fangs of a striking snake bared in her glaring gaze...

What are the chances Marco's seen it?

(It feels... _wrong,_ to do this without her. Felt wrong every time he entered the dressing room alone, every time he stepped alone on stage after she left. But she wanted him to keep going, so he did. Even if every kick and twirl, every move he passed on to Sabo and Luffy in the quiet confines of their cell, felt like a betrayal to her an everything they worked so hard for. But she wanted, _begged_ him to keep going, gave him her blessing and more...)

It's now or never.

Ace sends an apology to Mei, and decides _now._

Marco evades another uppercut and leaps backwards, but not far enough, and he's still grinning wide. "You're doing great, yoi," he says. "But hey, if you need to take a break –"

" _Nope!"_

Right leg first, Ace leaps off the ground and twirls vertically mid air like a ballerina, arms tucked to his chest –

("Always keep your arms in," she'd said, "they'll slow down your momentum otherwise. And never be afraid to show off a little. Blind them with your beauty!" She'd winked, a wholly playful thing. Ace had groaned, cheeks pink, ignoring her giggles.)

He lands on his right leg and _spins_ , left leg catching Marco in the gut and again in the side as Ace keeps spinning, until finally he sweeps his leg behind Marco's knees and sends him tumbling the floor, landing on his back with a pained grunt. Ace's booted foot scrapes against the floorboards as he grinds to a halt in a crouch, a curtain of black hair hanging over his eyes.

 _Silence._

Breathing hard, Ace blinks once, twice, raises his head. The other three commanders are aghast, staring with wide eyes and unhinged jaws at Ace, at Marco still on the floor. Sabo and Luffy are beaming hard enough that it looks like it hurts.

Ace's heart sinks to the pit of his chest. On the one hand, he's beaten Marco. On the other hand, was he really supposed to? Had he let his competitive streak overrule him? _Did I do something wrong –?_

"Jimney Freaking Crickets!" Thatch cries, pointing frantically at Ace, his other hand clenching his hair. His expression contorts into what might be half a grin, seized with shock. "What the heck was – where did you – you – _what the – ?!"_

" _Dude!"_ Haruta cackles gleefully, pushing passed his frozen comrades to circle Ace and help a stunned Marco to his feet. He's grinning like a child at Christmas, stars glittering in his bright blue eyes. "You knocked Marco on his _ass! Literally!_ That was _awesome!"_

...huh?

Ace blinks again, slowly rising from his crouch in time to catch a flying Luffy as the kid rams into him with all the force of a hurricane, rubber arms wrapped tight around Ace's middle. Ace absently returns the embrace, unsure, confused and admittedly a little wary. He's just taken down a commander of Whitebeard, and no one's the least bit angry with him. If anything, they're confused, surprised...proud? Ace is lost. "I, uh...I don't think I – uh...thanks?" he mutters, because his brain refuses to cooperate. Sabo seems to notice, and has no qualms smirking at Ace's plight. In turn, Ace has no problem finally flipping him a bird.

"Kid," Jozu breathes, and Ace turns to him; the larger man is shaking his head in what Ace now sees as disbelief, maybe a hint of awe that's wholly unexpected. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

An involuntary twitch. Another flash – waves of brown curls framing a young, rosy face, bright eyes alive with hidden laughter, yearning and hope and determination, glittering make-up running with her tears and her plea and her _smile,_ her soft _"_ _thank you"_ ringing in Ace's ears like bells and tortured accusations _–_

Ace, swallows, bites his lip – carefully – and trades a look with Sabo. The blond has since lost his grin, his face molded into a carefully blank mask. His eyes, however, are ridden with fresh hurt, suppressed anguish as he shifts closer to Ace. Luffy burrows deeper against his chest, fingers clenching the back of Ace's shirt tight enough to nearly tear the fabric.

He...doesn't want to say. Really. It's too soon, far too soon, like rubbing salt into a gaping wound that bleeds and bleeds with no signs of stopping. But the commanders are waiting, watching them silently. There's no suspicion, no threat of malice or distrust in their gazes...merely awe, curiosity, and Haruta's case, _excitement_.

After everything they've already put this crew through, they have a right to know. Even if it still hurts like hell.

"...I...I had a teacher, while we were...back _there_ ," he explains, gently untangling himself from Luffy, but his brothers sick close and closer still as Ace goes on, facing the commanders. He runs a hand through his hair, agitated and wrecked with nerves and old memories he'd rather not revisit. "She, uh...she taught me how to dance for about four years before...we escaped. She let me show some moves to my brothers, too. That – that was one of the moves she taught me."

He smiles a little despite himself, despite the lingering pain, shaking his head. "Pretty sure she was actually teaching me to fight, 'cos that kick felt brutal. Sorry, Marco."

Marco blinks once, taken aback. Then he smirks, shaking his head with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it," he says, rolling his shoulders and ignoring Haruta and Thatch's not-so-subtle sniggers. "I've had worse in my time, yoi. I'll heal."

His smile dips a moment later, though, replaced with a thoughtful frown that Ace is slowly starting to get used to. "But you're right about one thing – she was definitely teaching you how to fight. Because I've seen that move before."

Ace stiffens. Sabo pales. Luffy's fingers intertwine with Ace's. All three boys stare at Whitebeard's first mate.

He's always known Mei was teaching him to fight. He'd had an inkling when they first started, only proven when she flat-out told him the night of their first performance together. He'd hoped to play it off as a joke to Marco – plenty of dances can cause bodily harm, he's sure – but...

 _He's seen it before. But how could he? Unless..._

It's a moment before the words claw their way from Ace's closed throat. "...you...you have?"

 _Please don't say you knew her, please, please, I can't take it, how could I tell you –?_

Then Marco shrugs a shoulder, oddly calm compared to Ace's raging, inward panic. "Well, from a distance, yoi, but yes," he says. "There's no denying it. That's definitely a technique used primarily, if not exclusively, by the Kuja Pirates."

The panic vanishes as quickly as it came, confusion taking its place. Ace stares at Marco, head tilting. Luffy and Sabo mimic him. "...huh?"

A chorus of chuckles from the other commanders. Marco simply smiles. "Yeah, I didn't expect you to know about them, yoi. Long story short, the Kuja are a pirate crew from an island called Amazon Lily; an island of women. They're renowned warriors, and all members of the crew are chosen from the tribe of their homeland."

"Not just anybody from the tribe can join," Jozu adds while Ace is still reeling, colossal arms folded. "But that move of yours proves she was a member, or at the very least one of the warriors stationed on the island; she must have been one hell of a warrior before she was taken if she was learning directly under Boa Hancock herself. Pirate Empress and a Warlord of the Sea."

Ace blinks. Hard. A glance at Sabo sees the younger blond suffering the same mental shutdown, staring blankly at the commanders. Amid it all, Luffy is...oddly unreadable. Like he's the only one taking this all in. Strange, considering things like this are often lost on Luffy, in one ear and out the other.

Ace, meanwhile, is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his teacher, his friend...Mei was a _pirate?_ She was strong and swift and smart and wonderful, and she'd said so herself that their dance was more suited for battle than mere performances, so a warrior sort of makes sense, but...a _pirate?_ From an island of only _women?_ Places like that actually exist? And who the hell is this Boa Hancock person? _What the hell's a Warlord?!_

"'S kinda weird, though," Haruta muses, effectively silencing Ace's mental downward spiral into eternal confusion. All eyes fall on the Twelfth Commander, and the younger commander shrugs a shoulder. "I mean, I've heard the stories – Kuja are freakin' _vicious_ towards men. They won't let _any_ near their island, not even Navy Admirals. So it's strange that your teacher, Ace, would willingly show _you_ their fighting style disguised as dance. I mean, that's pretty personal, part of their culture." Then Haruta grins wide, eyes twinkling once more. "Damn, you sure are lucky! You got to train under a Kuja! Must've really seen somethin' in you, man!"

Ace ignores the heat creeping along his cheeks, ignores the stifled groans and chuckles from the commanders as they reprimand Haruta – "not everything has to be romantic, Haruta." "I never said that!" – and looks down at his hand. The one Mei had grabbed tight in both of hers the day she decided to pass on her knowledge to him, and to extent, his little brothers, whom she too wanted to protect.

...what the hell's Haruta talking about? Neither of them had a _choice_ in the matter of her teaching him; she was forced to, much like how he was forced to humiliate himself for the King's amusement, for the sake of his brothers. He'd never wanted to learn anything from her, didn't want anything to do with her, or the King, or this whole wretched world that chewed them up and spat them out at the feet of a devil wearing an angel's face.

But...she didn't have to _like_ him like she did. She didn't have to teach him the more complex moves, those of which he now knows are part of her own people's very secluded culture. She didn't have to do anything like that. But she did. And to this day he's still wondering why. She'd never explained beyond simply wanting to out of respect, admiration, a kinship born from their horrifying circumstances.

" _You are a good person, Ace. I can tell."_

A faint smile touches his lips as his fingers curl into his palm loosely.

 _Seen something in me, huh? Maybe..._

"Still..."

Ace looks up, half startled, as Marco's voice silences the others in the room – damn, that _has_ to be a talent.

The man looks directly at the three brothers, unreadable as ever for all that Ace tries to do just that. "I'm no Kuja, or a woman, so I really have don't have much of a say in this. But if she's given you permission, then I've got no problem if you continue to fight like that, yoi. But I'd still be careful; Boa Hancock doesn't go too far outside her borders most of the time, but she's well-known. If word gets out that three _boys_ know how to fight like her Kuja..." The blond winces through his teeth. "It might not end well if she decides to come looking for us."

The other commanders wince in what sounds like _agreement_ , shaking their heads. Ace can't help but gulp. Now he's worried.

"You...you don't think you can beat her?" Sabo probes for the first time, more curious than wary, unlike his older brother. "I mean, you guys are one of the strongest crews in the world. Is...is she really _that_ strong?"

Thatch shrugs, waggling a hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "Sorta. As is, the Kuja will kill you on the spot if you so much as dock on their island, which is fair enough, but Hancock is especially nasty," he explains, and then shivers. "Heard she can turn you to stone just by looking her in the damn eye, like a Gorgon from myths and stuff? Freaky as hell."

 _Now_ Sabo pales. "...turned to stone?" Thatch and Haruta nod as one, gravely serious. Sabo shivers with them.

 _'Mental note,'_ Ace thinks with his own little shiver, ' _never cross this Boa person if I wanna stay fleshy.'_

Even so, as Marco decides to wrap it up for today and send them above deck for dinner, a thought manifests and lingers for the rest of the day, following him even deep into the night as he curls up in bed with his brothers once more, Kotatsu freely stretched out along the edge of the bed near their feet.

Does...Hancock know about what happened Mei? Where she was taken? Is she still looking for her, along with the rest of her crew, if at all? And should they ever cross paths, by mistake or design...should Ace tell her?

Ace sighs softly, careful not to wake his exhausted brothers as he pulls the covers over them proper, tucking Luffy closer to his chest and running a hand through Sabo's cheerful curls. Temporarily distracted by the sight of them – Sabo half buried in blankets and pillows as he snores away, Luffy's limbs sprawled every which way until Ace rearranges them so he's less of a starfish – Ace cracks a grin and discards the thoughts swimming circles around his brain.

Kuja or no, pirate or no, Mei was, is, and always will be simply _Mei_ to him. His teacher...his friend, and their saviour in more ways than he could ever hope to thank her for, had he been given the chance.

He'd missed that chance, a bear miss that he'll regret for the rest of his life. But as he shuts his eyes and settles down to rest his body for the next few challenging days they've to look forward to, he sends a silent ' _thank you'_ to the stars, no doubt where she resides now, watching over them.

It's not much, not nearly enough, but he hopes she'll take it.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Got a report for you, cap'n."

Shanks glances over his shoulder as Ben approaches. There's no urgency in the man's steady stride nor panic or anger in his gaze – it's faded, now, dwindling along with the rest of the crew's former ire the further they sail from what remains of that place – leveling with Shanks' own as he comes to stand by his side at the railing. The sea is unusually calm, has been for the last week or so; strange, for the briny blue of Paradise to be so merciful, but this captain won't complain. It's been something of a blessing for him and his weary crew – the ship's taken quite a beating since leaving the New World, setting course once more for East Blue after yet another...unsuccessful search. The shipwrights have done a mighty fine job with what they've left to hand material wise, but here's hoping they'll dock soon to finish off what they've started, give the lads a reprieve for a day or two and set off for Dawn.

(They could all use a break. Not just from the seas, clement though she's been, but from the world. Shanks swears he's seen more of the horrors of this world in the last five years than he'd _ever_ been exposed to back in his days as a cabin boy under Roger. The heinous things he's seen, vile deeds done by those who deem themselves above petty thieves and pirates...

And he'd once thought the real monsters laid beneath the sea, dwelling in caves. Not drinking champagne with kings and queens.)

Yes. A break might do them all some good. Which is why when he turns to face Ben proper, he doesn't bother to hide the impish, hopeful grin stretching his lips. "A report, eh?" he probes, raising a brow. Ben doesn't even look at him, eyes drawn to the easy waves rocking their mighty vessel like a baby's cradle under a mother's gentle hand. It only serves to goad the captain further. "Might it be of the white, sandy beaches, tropical trees and blazing sunshine variety?"

This time Ben _does_ smile, a reluctant but indulgent thing. "Might be," he says, and Shanks could cheer, but settles for a wider grin that has Ben finally chuckle. "Navigation just gave word; an island about a week or so ahead, nameless, uninhabited as far as we know...might be a good place for a break." He casts a glance behind them at the crew milling the deck; some more weary than others, oddly quiet aside from the occasional shout for assistance from the crows' nest and rigging, men hard at work to keep the ship in shape, keep themselves busy, distracted, motivated. "The crew sure as hell needs one."

The first mate's face is unreadable, but Shanks knows the man better than most. He's as weary as the rest of them, down to his soul. Hard to blame them. The bags under Shank's eyes can certainly relate to their plight, and that of the man at his side who loved the slip of a boy as much as the rest of them did. And still do.

(It's hard to sleep, sometimes, in the same room as the little box with an untouched treasure sitting inside. Cowardly, some might even call it stupid, pathetic, a weakness for any soul daring to call themselves a captain, a pirate. To those assholes, Shanks asks them if they've ever lost a kid, and if all they had of that sweet, dumbass, reckless, joy and wonder of a kid was a straw hat in a wooden box, waiting for its owner to take it back, if they ever would.)

He shakes himself, blinking once to ward off the haze of anger creeping along the edge of his senses. The crew needs rest, sure, but rendering them unconscious via Conquerors Haki isn't ideal, nor safe. A good few are messing about in the rigging still.

He claps his hand on Ben's shoulder, his grin a lopsided thing. "Sounds great, Benny," he says, easily ignoring the eye-roll from his best friend as he heads for his quarters. "Have we set a course?" he throws over his shoulder; no need to look to know Ben's following.

"Did you really need to ask?" the man snorts. "Where're _you_ off to?"

Shanks hesitates a moment before replying, pausing in his stride – "Best get to calling the old bastard. Let him know we're taking a quick reprieve before we get to East Blue, see if he's had any luck on his side. Usual thing."

Another pause. He looks over his shoulder. Ben is still and silent. No words of comfort, no sad smiles nor a sympathetic gaze. They know damn well neither of them need it, want it. Instead, the man nods once, stone-faced, and turns to head back down to navigation.

Shanks finds himself smiling after him as he resumes his own short journey to the captain's quarters, wondering when he'd last told that magnificent bastard of a first mate he loved him without getting a smouldering cigarette to the face. Not nearly often enough, he decides, and shuts the door behind him.

He doesn't look at the box sitting atop his bedside table under the oil lantern, collecting dust. He fights the memories of a bright-eyed, smiling face of a six-year-old boy looking up at him like he held the sun, moon and stars in the palm of his hand, asking him to take him with them, undeterred no matter how many times he was denied. He quells the burning regret sitting in his chest like a blistering stone, silences the violent accusations ringing in his ears, screaming _'you should've taken him',_ and he sits down at his desk, regarding the sleeping Transponder Snail.

The Red Hair captain sighs roughly, scrubbing his hand over his eyes, and it's here that he hesitates a second time. He hates these calls, hates making them, hates receiving them. It's become a constant in his life that he's come to loathe with a burning passion he's not felt since Roger's execution. But, and this is a sad bit of irony, this agreement of theirs is the only thing keeping him sane most days, knowing he's not the only one looking for the boy. Knowing there's still a _chance,_ despite all the false rumors, dead ends, days where he dares to think for a moment that he's too late...that the little boy he'd grown to love is...

No. Enough of that. He's got a call to make, a crew to take care of, and a kid to find a bring home.

(And at the end of the day, he's not Shank's kid. Well, not _just_ Shank's kid. Garp needs this as much, if not more, than the pirate does. Even if the marine still hates said pirate's guts to a generous extent.)

So he picks up the damn snail, ringing up the number. It takes a minute or two, or maybe it takes an eternity, but the snail rears up, frowning gruffly –

" _This is Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp. To whom am I speaking?"_

Shanks allows a grin. "Only little old me, your buddy, your pal. Miss me, Garp dear?"

The snail sighs, long-suffering as anything, and Shanks fights a truly juvenile snicker. The man's as fun to rile up as Buggy was. _"You got anything to say, punk, or am I gonna have to track your ass down and kick it?"_

As he said, fun to rile up – not that he ever should if he wants to keep said ass, but he's made dumber choices – but today isn't the day for it. "Just wanted to know if you've read the latest on me," he says instead, leaning back on his chair and kicking his feet up onto the desk. "Heard the fire looked great. Didn't see it myself, honestly; badasses don't look at explosions, you know how it is."

" _I read it,"_ Garp says, rudely ignoring the latter part. _"Any casualties?"_

Shanks shrugs, not that the Marine can see it. "None that I or anyone could care less about."

" _The slaves?"_

"Freed and relocated by local authorities. Ran into some Revs, if you're interested to know. Sneaky bastards actually helped out, not that _I_ couldn't handle it or anything. Still...there were more of them locked up this time. A lot more than the last few we've seen, and that's not even counting Sabaody."

" _...I see. And...Luffy?"_

Shanks frowns, ignoring the familiar, aching pang in his chest. "...no. Another bust, I'm afraid. Anything on your end, old man?"

A brief pause. Shanks waits, eyes fixed on the ceiling to count the cracks in the wood. He's up to fifteen when Garp finally speaks.

" _...we heard of a riot on an island called Garnet. Bunch of slaves broke out, started fires all over the castle grounds. A good hundred escaped before local law detained the rest for questioning – I personally saw to it they were all released once it was over. None of them matched the boys' description, and there weren't enough witnesses at the time the fires started. But...three slaves, apparently, were unaccounted for. Couldn't find them among the bodies or the ones local law brought in."_

Shanks blinks, brows furrowing.

This is...different. Not their usual back and forth of disappointment, and so he sets both feet back down and leans forward. "...you haven't already left the island, have you?" he asks slowly, trying and failing to squash the sudden, new surge of hope rising in his chest. Could it possibly be...?

" _I'm actually on my way back,"_ Garp says. _"One of Whitebeard's allies, Whitey Bay, let all hell break loose on the whole damned kingdom, killing the King but leaving the Queen and princess alive. As far as we know, the attack was completely unprovoked, but you know that old fart; he wouldn't condone any of his own doing something like this without a damn good reason. This is as good a time as any to...check. It's close enough to Sabaody and far enough from the Twin Capes to be likely, but...I wouldn't get our hopes up yet. I'll let you know regardless."_

 _'Easy for you to say,'_ Shanks wants to say, wants to point out the silver of hope in his own, gruff voice, seldom heard since Shanks agreed to all of this five years ago. Instead Shanks just nods – again, not that Garp can see. "Gotcha. Well, the lads and I are taking a brief detour before we head back to East Blue. They need a break. We'll be right along after a day or two of drinking ourselves silly and whatnot, y'know, pirate stuff. Rather not bore you with the details."

That earns him a wry smirk from the snail. _"Good to know Roger raised you well, brat. Give my love to Makino when you see her."_

"Oh, I'll be giving her a _lot_ more than that –"

" _Don't make me cut your balls off, brat! I swear to god I'll do it!"_

This time Shanks allows a cackle, hanging up on the man while he's spewing threats and profanities that'd make Yasopp blush. With that, still grinning, his heart lighter than it was when he'd entered, he gets up and moves to leave the room. But not without laying his hand on the little wooden bx by his bed, leaving a dusty handprint behind. His smile softens, but it doesn't vanish like it might have – like it has been – after these calls.

And despite Garp's warning, the hope doesn't fade either. Not for the rest of the day. Not _ever_.

 _Hang on, Anchor. We're coming for ya._

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N~ Ok. Wow. What a wild few months!**

 **Sorry for the delay. I've been hyperfixated on MARVEL after getting my heart torn out by Endgame, IT WAS AMAZING! But I'll never forget this fic, so here's one HELL of a chapter for you guys, no doubt my longest yet!**

 **A few mentions:**

 **Chikai - That is a VERY good question! This Luffy might might feel very different about his father than canon!Luffy. Thanks for bringing that up, and your comment is a joy!**

 **Stormy1X2 - SEMPAI NOTICED ME! Thank you SO much for the review, and I'm glad i'm doing Whiskey justice!**

 **SakuraS41 - Thanks for the review! Don't worry, the Kuja will come in to play at some point :)**

 **Lan3 - THANK YOU XD**

 **Wordlet - ehehehehe! That's all I'm saying :)**

 **DemonKittyAngel - I want this as bad as you do, and I'm the writer XD Thanks for the review**

 **CanIHaveAHug - HELL YEAH FOR KUJA STYLE ACE XD**

 **sorry I can't reply to all of you, your reviews are giving me life, but I've gotta get to work XD**

 **I OWN NOTHING!**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 20**

On the morning of December 31st, Ace is woken up by Luffy leaping onto his back and jumping up and down on him.

He does his best to keep his eyes squeezed shut, pleading with the universe and everything in it that he might go back to sleep for one hour more ('please, just one more hour, Marco kicked my ass yesterday'). Alas, Luffy doesn't bend to the whims of the universe, and giggles loud and happy into Ace's ear.

Ace groans into his pillow. _God hates me._

It's no better when Sabo joins in – he bounces on the bed, though dangerously close to the older teen's face. How the hell can _he_ be so chipper this morning? He'd been up half the night pouring over maps and charts and such at their desk, his smile brighter than the lantern casting shadows across the room... _and_ getting his ass handed to him by Haruta hours prior to that.

Sabo's arm has long since recovered, no issues with mobility whatsoever, much to the surprise of the medical staff. Ace is not the least bit surprised. His twin has never been one to stay down for too long, not even _back there_ (though of course, _those_ wounds will take far longer to heal.) He'd taken up using a staff again, like he had when they were young, though the one Vista gifted him with is wood rather than the metal pipe they'd preferred. Like Ace, he's not quite lost his touch, but muscle memory can only get one so far, less so up against a New World pirate with experience and skill that outmatch Sabo's by far.

Needless to say, he's also sporting some nice bruises that had him whining as they plodded back to their cabin for the night. And yet here he is now, wide awake, laughing alongside Luffy as they bounce on the bed (and on Ace) in an effort to get him up or get him angry. The latter is certainly working.

" _Aaaaaaccce~!"_ Sabo sings loudly, "wake _uuuup~!"_

Ace groans again from the depths of his soul, clutching the pillow tight and burying his face deeper, mildly surprised when he doesn't suffocate. " _Whyyyy?"_ he whines, muffled by the stuffing of his only protection from the accursed daylight beaming obnoxiously bright through the porthole.

He can _hear_ Sabo's grin. "'Cos it's _morning_."

Ace's brow twitches, ire growing. At least Luffy's not bouncing on him anymore. Small mercies. " _So?"_ he growls.

Their youngest giggles again, finally sliding off Ace and shuffling off the bed completely, bare feet padding against the floorboards. Ace almost thanks the stars until Sabo drapes himself over him instead, arms snaking around his waist as he plants a hard, grinning kiss against Ace's cheek, and declares –

"Happy sixteenth birthday!"

Ace stiffens. Eyes snapping open, wide awake, ire forgotten. He lifts his head from the pillow, face to face with a beaming Sabo. "Wha?"

Sabo keeps on grinning like it's Christmas all over again, unfazed. "That's right!" he chimes. "Congrats on being alive for sixteen years today! Well, technically tomorrow, but your were born at dawn so it's close enough. _Happy birthday!_ Oh, and Happy New Year!"

Ace doesn't feel the weight of Luffy once again leaping onto him and Sabo, rubber arms encircling them and squeezing tight. Doesn't hear their laughter, doesn't hear Kotatsu's annoyed chuffs as he gets up from his perch at the foot of their bed and pads through the door in search of a new quiet place. Instead, his heart thunders loud in his ears, echoes of his own thoughts a merciless screech like nails scraping against a board.

 _My birthday, huh?_

God. It's been so long since he'd even thought about his birthday. It's only thanks to the yearly performances that he knows how old he is; time had little to no meaning to him back _there_ , a blur of unending hell, years of praying to a god that overlooked them because of the single demon residing among two angels...

Luffy and Sabo's birthdays were harder to keep track of, but he'd managed. Every year, he would sneak food from the kitchens, be they leftovers ready to go to waste or a steal from a meal yet to be served, and hide the bundle under his shirt when escorted back to their cell. It was only food, mere scraps no better than what they were given by the guards, nothing compared to what his little brothers deserved.

But the gleam in their teary eyes, the smiles lighting their faces up like the night sky they'd missed so dearly, made the looming fear of punishment all worth it.

Of course, they tried to do the same for Ace. Unlike them, however, Ace never saw the point, and still doesn't. Not when the beginning of his life had spelled the end of his mothers'. Not when Roger's blood ran through his veins and cursed him, robbed him of any chance of a normal childhood, a normal life, even before they were ripped from their home and sold into slavery...

No. He never saw the point. But it never stopped Sabo and Luffy from trying, regardless of his demands for them to stop. They never listened.

This year seems to be no different.

(A part of him is angry, wondering why the hell they haven't given up, why they won't listen to him when he tells them _no._ The other part selfishly hopes they never do.)

The weight on his back suddenly eases off. Ace blinks from his reverie, looks up to see Sabo smiling at Luffy. "Lu, go to the kitchens and get that giant cupcake Thatch made," he says. Ace gawks, mortified, but Luffy's already scurrying off before Ace can voice a protest, slipping on his sandals and skipping out the door.

And then Sabo sighs, a soft but weary thing that gives Ace pause. He looks up again.

The mirth is gone from Sabo's eyes, but not in a way that warrants concern as the blond shuffles off him and sits on the bed proper, legs crossed. Chin resting in his palm, elbow perched on his knee, Sabo regards Ace coolly as the elder follows suit and sits up, shaking his hair out from its bedridden mess. His twin is mostly unreadable, calm, leaving Ace blind as to what he's getting into, but only a little; Sabo's only like this when he wants to badger him about something that's bugging him, or for something Ace has or hasn't done. Considering it's his birthday –

"I know you hate it when we do this," the blond murmurs at last, eyes dropping to the blanket. Ace waits, knowing where this is going – it's not their first time doing this, a familiar dance with familiar steps – but he keeps his silence for his brothers' sake. Sabo picks at a loose thread on the bed-sheets to give his hands something to do. "I know you think your birthday isn't a big deal, or that your life isn't worth celebrating. That we shouldn't care..."

Blue eyes, bright and intense, flick upwards once more to meet startled silver. Ace blinks – this isn't part of their routine – only for Sabo to close the distance, wrapping his arms around Ace's neck and holding tight.

Ace doesn't fight it, couldn't if he tried (not that he ever would), but he's stunned. "Sabo?"

Sabo squeezes him once. "We do care, Ace," he says, full of warmth and love they've never found anywhere else in all their lives. "Screw what the rest world thinks. You matter to me, to Luffy. You might think otherwise, which is stupid of you – don't scoff, you _are_ stupid – but that doesn't change the fact that Luffy and I love you. We _love_ you, Ace, more than anything. And we're _grateful_ you're alive, that you were born at all. You know that, right?"

Ace purses his lips against a scowl, against the stinging in his eyes that's getting harder and harder to ignore every day. He knows they care, of course he does, though the little demons scraping their claws at his heart love to convince him differently. But the annoyance surges regardless, and he sighs against Sabo's neck. "Sabo –"

"Let us give you this," the blond implores, already breaking down Ace's defenses like a seastone cannonball. "Please. Your first birthday, our first new year, as _free_ men..."

 _Ah hell._

Ace sighs again, defeated – the little bastard knows _exactly_ what buttons to push – finally bringing his arms up to hold Sabo and letting his eyes slip shut. His words rock Ace to his core, every time – hard to believe in something that differs vastly from what you've heard over years and years from others. Though it never changes how he feels every year, about himself, his parents, everything. But just this once, he supposes, for their sake if not his own...

"...alright," he says, feeling Sabo grin against his shoulder, knowing he's won. Bastard. "I'll let it slide. But only 'cos I get a giant cupcake from Thatch out of it."

Sabo snickers. "Figures. You and Luffy, never think with anything but your guts."

"Says _you_ ," Ace protests, but he's soon grinning as he lets Sabo go, the blond shuffling backwards on the bed to face him proper. Gratitude gleams in mismatched eyes, and Ace finds it easier to accept this surprise birthday...'party'? It's not so much a party since it's only the three of them, is it –?

"Alright!" Sabo claps his hands once and rubs them together like a satisfied thief. "Now that's sorted, why the hell are you avoiding Whitebeard?"

... _that_ throws Ace for a minute, and he balks, blinks hard. Sabo doesn't budge an inch, arms folded expectantly. Ace stares at him, licks his dry lips. "...pardon?" he squeaks.

Sabo quirks a brow. "Don't even try it. Whitebeard told me, but I didn't believe it until I saw just how much _effort_ you put into avoiding the man. You don't even _look_ at him anymore. It'd be hilarious if it wasn't confusing as hell and a little confusing." The smile fades a little as he leans forward, hands bracing his ankles the way Luffy often does, and it really is a wonder they're not all blood related. "So, why the are you avoiding Whitebeard? You were fine before the party at Tundra, so what's changed? Did you say something to him? Did he say something to _you?_ Did he –?"

He stops. Ace can see the cogs turning in his brain, and suddenly the temperature in the room drops as Sabo's eyes go narrow and _cold._

"Did he _do_ something to you?" he asks, oddly calm, and it _scares_ Ace how this is something Sabo does almost naturally, now, this switch from the brother he loves to this _killer_ lying in wait beneath the surface of scarred skin. "Ace, did he –?"

" _No,_ 'Bo, no," Ace appeases, hands clasping Sabo's where they've started to clench around his ankles, knuckles white. "No, he didn't – he didn't _do_ anything, I'm fine. You really think I would've _let_ him –?"

"With the right incentive, yes," Sabo bites back. Ace's mouth slams shut, eyes wide as he gawks at his brother, the unspoken truth blatantly and harshly admitted. "You've always been a self-sacrificing bastard, I know that, we've _always_ known. If he'd used us to get to –"

"Well he _didn't,_ okay?!" Ace snaps. He doesn't quite know what to make of this sudden drive to defend Whitebeard, but the words tumble from his mouth regardless. "I'm fine, you and Lu are fine, everything's –"

"Then _why are you –?!"_

" _Because he asked me to join the crew!"_

Sabo freezes, stares at Ace. Ace freezes, eyes wide as saucers, lips pressed shut, but far too late.

"...he what?"

 _Crap._

Cheeks heating up, Ace drops Sabo's hands like they're made of molten rock and averts his gaze. "I – he, uh – well, it's – god, whatever – fine, _yes!"_ he throws his hands in the air and gives up, letting his head fall back as he glares at the cracked ceiling. "Yes, the old man wants me to join the crew. Pretty sure the invitation extends to you and Luffy too, but, yeah. He asked me that night. Wants me to be his...yeah. There, I said it. Happy?"

Silence.

Ace blinks and lifts his head to look at Sabo. The blond stares back, disbelief in his wide eyes. Then they're searching, understanding, and then –

"You turned him down," he says – doesn't need to ask. "You got angry, stormed off..." He gestures Ace's left wrist with a lazy flick of his fingers, the marks that once marred the freckled skin already fading. "And then you hurt yourself."

Ace sighs slowly through his nose but nods. His fingers clench into loose fists on his lap, nails just shy of biting into his palms. "...yeah. Yeah, I did."

It's...It's not that he hates Whitebeard, not really...not anymore. He respects him. But the old man has no idea who Ace is, and should he ever dare accept his offer, get too close to the crew...it'll blow up in his face if or when the truth comes out. They'll reject him, like Dadan damn near did when he was a baby, and Ace will either flee, live the rest of his days knowing for _sure_ that his existence is a sin, or die by the hands of his father's enemy. Or simply cease to exist, save them the trouble and –

A finger flicks him _hard_ in the forehead. Ace reels backwards, yelps. "Ow, what the – ?!"

Sabo's stare is flat and unrelenting, hand still raised. "Stop that."

"Stop what?!"

"Thinking. Stop it, or I'll kick your ass and eat the whole damn cupcake if Luffy hasn't already." He lowers his hand and shuffles over until they're pressed shoulder to shoulder. Ace is still rubbing his forehead and pouting (it doesn't hurt but he'll bitch about it anyway) when Sabo nudges him with another tired smile. "Look...I get that you're scared. I get that you're confused. But avoiding Whitebeard won't solve anything, and it sure as hell doesn't look good after everything he's done for us."

Ace has to wince, inwardly admitting that _yeah,_ it does look pretty bad. Even so – "What the hell am I supposed to do, though?" he asks, tries and fails not to sound pleading, desperately confused though he is. "I can't just – just _join_ them. What if he finds out? What if they _all_ find out, and they –?"

"Then we do what we'd planned to do from the very start, get off this ship. Anyone who doesn't accept you for who you are isn't worth a damn, no matter how nice they've been. Something tells me it won't come to that, though." Sabo smirks, devoid of humor. "I'm not saying you should join the crew if you don't want to...or if you're still unsure. But you can't keep this up, or others besides me will start to notice. You and I both know that Whitebeard's a good man, reputation notwithstanding. You can at least try to get to know him better, talk to him. He's surprisingly easy to talk to," he adds with a smile that's small but real with a hint of something Ace hasn't seen before. It's...weird. Not bad, but _weird._

Still, Ace bites his lip, considering. _Talk_ with _Whitebeard?_ It sounds ridiculous, would be had he not seen Luffy do just that first hand on several occasions, sitting on his lap of all places. But Ace isn't like his brothers. Conversation, interacting with people...it doesn't come easy to him. It's only through his brothers, and help from the Whitebeard's, that he's barely managing it. The captain is a whole other matter entirely, and Ace feels goosebumps rise along his arms at the very thought.

"...I don't know if I can do that, 'Bo," he confesses softly, eyes drawn to his lap once more. He hears Sabo sigh and lift his arm to drape it around Ace's shoulders.

"Just think about it, okay? Don't think about how _I_ or Luffy would do it; you do what suits you...within reason. Seriously, don't be stupid."

Ace smirks despite himself. "Sabo –"

"I know that's a hard concept to grasp with what little brains you've got left, but with a little effort I'm sure you can – _**oof!"**_

Ace's elbow connects with his gut, and he rocks backwards on the bed with a wheeze. Ace cackles like the villain he is, harder when Sabo lifts a shaking hand and flips him off. The literal icing on the cake arrives when Luffy bursts through the door, the promised cupcake in his arms (it might as well be an actual cake with how big the damn thing is) and a winning grin etched across icing-caked lips – the little bastard _had_ taken a bite!

Sabo's words aren't lost on him, even as they dig into what might be the sweetest, unhealthiest breakfast they've ever had in their short lives. Despite himself, his fears, Ace really can't avoid Whitebeard much longer. The cowering (because that's what it is, no point denying it for the sake of pride) has to stop, whether the subject – the damned question – is brought up again or not.

But _how?_ Does he just stroll up and start chatting to the old man like nothing's happened? Does he sit by Whitebeard's chair in silence like one's lost pup? What the hell can he –?

And then it dawns on him.

Conversation has never come easy to Ace. Not _spoken_ words, anyway. But _other_ things are as easy as breathing to the wild boy that was. It's stupid. Suicidal, really, and if it doesn't end up killing him, Sabo just might. But what else can he do?

(Who knows? It might even be a fun challenge, something Ace has never been one to turn down. Not even for an Emperor.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Sabo is going to _strangle_ his brother.

He'd told Ace to think it over, to not do anything reckless or stupid as he's often prone to, to do what he thinks works for him on how to approach Whitebeard regarding the unspoken tension (on Ace's side, confusion on the captain's.) He _hadn't,_ in any way, shape or form, given his blessing for his airhead of an older brother to march up to Whitebeard's chair and challenge _the Strongest Man in the World to a_ _ **sparring**_ _match!_

And yet, that's exactly what he does.

Spine erect, hands by his sides and eyes fixed on the veteran pirate's wizened, amber pair, Ace raises his chin and asks Whitebeard to spar with him, loud and clear for all those on deck to hear. Needless to say, it attracts quite the attention from the milling crew; a few eyes bug out, a few jaws drop, the rest grinning in surprised delight or praying for the young idiot. Sabo almost follows the latter.

But Whitebeard's response to such lunacy almost takes the cake. He doesn't laugh or brush Ace aside, nor is he at all annoyed or baffled by the challenged issued by the newly minted sixteen-year-old still in the beginning stages of his training, rehabilitation; strong and growing stronger by the day, but not strong enough yet. Certainly not enough to even _consider_ challenging an Emperor. No, the old captain meets Ace's determined glare with a mile-wide grin, an eager spark in his eye –

"Of course. Bring it on, brat."

(Sabo, along with over a dozen men and women, choke on their own saliva.)

The match, if can be called that, is embarrassingly brief; Ace leaps into the air, fists and eyes ablaze with a vigor Sabo hasn't seen since their days in the jungles of Dawn, only for Whitebeard to send him _flying_ across the deck without so much as batting an eye – and _over the side of the ship –?!_

" _OHMYGOD ACE!"_ Sabo screeches as he watches his screaming brother sail overboard and plunge into the sea. He's already one leg over the railing, crew's protests be damned, only for a blur of black and blue to beat him to it. Sabo blinks rapidly, and just catches Namur's nimble form disappear beneath the calm waves.

As he waits with baited breath – he has faith in the Fishman's speed, but the niggling fear festers all the same – Whitebeard comes to stand beside him and peers over the railing. One might find it ridiculous for a man bearing his reputation to be even the slightest bit sheepish when he mutters a soft "Oops," under his breath. Yet, Whitebeard manages it. And despite the fear and annoyance and generally regretting his life choices, Sabo can't help the smirk, though he does flash the captain a half-glare.

(Nearly three weeks ago he never would've dared make eye-contact with anyone, let alone one of the most powerful criminals on the seas. And yet here he is, glaring at _Whitebeard_ , and that fear is nowhere to be found.

Were he not exasperated with the world and everything in it, he might find this concept liberating, funny, even. As it is, he just wants Namur to hurry up with Ace so he can smack him upside the head. And maybe politely ask Whitebeard to _please_ practice some restraint. There's very little brain left in Ace to begin with, no need to knock it around any more.)

When the soaking wet pair are finally brought back aboard with several helping hands at the ready with towels in hand (this sort of thing happens often, evidently) Namur steadies Ace with an arm around his shoulders as the younger splutters and coughs up seawater. "You okay, kid?" the Fishman asks, the concern bleeding into his gaze belying his casual tone. "Not hurt at all, are you? Pops sure sent you flyin' just now. Not that he meant to. Right?"

At this, he sends Whitebeard the very same half-glare Sabo had, one that speaks of fond annoyance and poorly concealed humor. Whitebeard at least has the grace to look apologetic, though he does avert his eyes, a smile under his mustache that's wholly impish. Helping Ace to his feet, letting others wrap him up in a warm towel, Namur's frown deepens in a manner all too similar to Marco that Sabo almost snorts. " _Pops."_

"What? The boy said he wanted to spar with me," Whitebeard says. "It would be dishonorable of me to hold back on someone as strong and spry as he is, wouldn't it?"

"Still, we do _not_ toss children overboard, Pops!" someone calls from across the ship – it sounds like Jiru, and despite the reprimand, it sounds like he's grinning. Whitebeard huffs, nose upturned, feigning petulance. It gains a few hearty laughs and collective sighs.

Amid all this, none but Sabo catches Ace staring at Whitebeard, shivering a little even under the fluffy mass of blanket, a look in his eye that Sabo's never seen before in all the years he's known his friend, his brother. It lingers on the old man standing before them, long and hard – and vanishes in the next instant when Namur, having resigned himself to his captain's ways, ushers Ace back to their cabin to dry off and change. Sabo watches them go, watches Ace steal one more glance at the giant of a man before disappearing around the corner.

Vexation aside, Sabo feels a smile stretch his lips, small but endlessly fond as he turns on his heel in search of Luffy – he's in the kitchen no doubt, pilfering all the delicious goods he can from Thatch with his begging puppy eyes. They'll undoubtedly find Ace's most recent 'incident' as hilarious as the rest of the crew seem to now that the crisis has (for now) been averted.

(But the way Ace looked at Whitebeard just now, with shock and awe and a new surge of respect – admiration, maybe – might be what a boy looks like when staring up at his father. Not that Ace will admit it. And Sabo won't bring it up. This is all as new to him as it is to Ace. But it's a good start.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

For as long as they've sailed with these pirates, it seems all they ever do is party. There's nothing wrong with that, of course; how could one call themselves a pirate if they don't take full advantage of their freedom in the form of endless booze, cheers and drunken dancing? Even so, it struck Ace as odd, at first, for the crew of an Emperor to partake in such celebrations as often as they do, never once losing the spirit and vigor from the last party, regardless how long it's been since said party.

Tonight will celebrate the coming of a new year. The chance to leave behind the sorrows and mistakes of yesterdays gone by, a chance for some to start over fresh; a celebration of what has been and what is yet to come, a declaration of joy and defiance to the world and its unpredictability and cruelty hidden under beauty: "We're ready! Give us all you got!"

It awes Ace, the spirit emanating from this endlessly lively crew, and inspires him like nothing else has since Mei. He can't help but be swept right up with them, grinning hard and laughing at jokes and stories (he stays far from the drinks, though, at least the alcoholic ones – he might be sixteen officially in a few hours, but he has no desire to get drunk in the near future.)

It's almost enough to help him forget about his earlier embarrassment, his plight and hatred for the day he was born. Almost.

Sabo's not far off, hanging by the railing with Haruta, Izo and a good handful from both Division's of whom Sabo has gotten to know from his daily 'excursions' to the Navigation room. One can always tell who's part of Izo's Division with how bright and bold they're dressed, some even wearing make-up, men and women alike, and no one bats an eye. One not-so-subtly asks Sabo if he'd be interested in a makeover, to which her companions chuckle and coo respectively while Sabo's face does an incredible impression of a cherry tomato as he ducks his head.

(Sabo getting done up all pretty like Izo. Ace can't quite decide whether he'd give an arm and a leg to make that happen, or be reminded of his own experience trapped in a dressing room, (cold hands pulling at his hair and gripping his chin in an iron hold as they painted over the freckles he'd inherited from his mother, stabbed holes into his earlobes and shoved him into attire too revealing to be considered clothing, ogled at and cooed over by oily voices and ill minded nobles) to ever let his twin near anything of the like.)

Luffy, as usual, is bouncing from table to table, chasing an irate Kotatsu and wrestling with an eager Stefan across the deck, laughing wild and loud a free as anything over the music. It's endearing and infectious; all who hear him are grinning from ear to ear, ruffling his hair when he's near and shouting encouragement when the boy reaches for something to cling to and swing on like the monkey he is, be it the mast or someone's broad shoulders.

The twelve-year-old's ringing laughter is matched only by Whitebeard, sitting at his usual perch with a tankard of rum in his hand despite the nurses warnings, watching his underlings – his family – revel in merriment. From his view by the starboard railing, Ace can see the the smile on his face, warm like a summers night, eyes agleam with mirth and unconditional love. Every now and then a crew-member or commander in varied states of intoxication will wander (or stumble) over to the giant of a man and strike brief conversation; Whitebeard listens close and intent, never once averting his attention until they depart with a wave and a cheerful farewell.

His smile never fades. It only grows.

Ace watches the captain, watches the crew and every interaction between what he understands now to be between father and children, and an urge brews, new and frightening, in the pit of his chest too strong to ignore. Midnight is almost upon them, as is the dawn of a new year. A chance to make a change, to learn and grow from what they were into who they want and are meant to be. This, Ace thinks, might make a good start.

Unless he's too much of a coward to take the first step.

And then he catches Sabo's eye from the other side of the ship, still surrounded by rowdy pirates. The blond looks at him, looks over at Whitebeard chugging what must be his third or so tankard (that _seriously_ can't be good for him), then back to Ace. He smiles softly and tilts his head in the captain's direction, a 'go get 'em' gesture if ever he saw one.

Ace gulps, nerves already getting the better of him. He's spent a good chunk of his life loathing this man and his long dead rival. His goal had been (and still is, to a point) to surpass them both, even if it meant killing Whitebeard. But now, the very man he'd been all too willing to kill has instead granted them a temporary _home_ , food and clothes and warm beds to sleep on, and a promise he's already kept in full and strives to keep despite the trouble Ace and his brothers have caused...and an offer...

 _'Join my crew, and I will call you my son.'_

He shakes his head. He's already made up his mind about that, no point in dwelling on it any longer. No point in pussyfooting around anymore, either. So Ace squares his shoulders, lifts his chin and marches over.

 _I can do this. I can do this. I'm just...just gonna talk to Whitebeard. Just like the crew does. I can do this. I already broke the ice with the spar this morning – if you can call that a spar – so this should be a piece of –_

He's standing before the captain before he knows it, and almost tenses up when those impossibly wise amber eyes meet Ace's shock of silver. A silence passes between them, a brief thing but enough to have the boy nearly rethink his decisions, until Whitebeard smiles. "Hello, Ace," he greets, setting his tankard on the arm of his chair, giving Ace his attention in its entirety; it's humbling and terrifying. "Enjoying yourself?"

Ace swallows, blinks once, twice, three times – _'Say something you idiot!'_

"Y-Yeah. I'm – I'm good. Thanks," he stammers, and ducks his head as his face starts to flush a brilliant red. ' _Real smooth.'_

Whitebeard laughs, and it's not at all mocking. "What's the matter, boy? Not afraid I'm gonna punt you off the ship like I did this afternoon, are you? I'll admit, though, that was a little rough. But you're a strong young lad, and I've been hearing great things about the three of you with your training; I figured you could take it. It's been a while since I've had the pleasure of sparring with anyone as lively as you."

Ace blinks again, hard. The tension in his stomach eases – Whitebeard's presence and aura, intimidating though it can be, seems to do that on occasion – but surprise and curiosity are quick to take over. "...you...you think so?"

Whitebeard smiles wide beneath his mustache. "Of course, brat. I knew you were strong the moment I met you and your brothers, regardless of your physical, mental and emotional state at the time." The old man sits back in his chair a little, eyes raised to the starlit sky overhead, while Ace has a little freak-out (he _can't_ mean that, can he? He'd swatted Ace like a freaking fly mere hours ago!). "You often remind me of Marco, back when he was just a rookie, all wet behind the ears and no sea legs to speak of," he adds.

Freak-out over (for now), Ace pauses, looks up. "You trained Marco?" he asks, head tilting, genuinely curious; he's never thought to ask any of the commanders of their pasts, deeming it inappropriate for someone who's not even part of their crew to stick their nose where it doesn't belong. But here is Whitebeard, already revealing more about Marco than the man himself has since the first time he appeared to them as the immortal Phoenix.

Meeting the boy's inquisitive gaze, Whitebeard nods. "That I did. Or as much as I could, anyway. I left the rest for him to figure out on his own. A man of my size and strength can only teach so much to a young man who barely reaches my knee," he chuckles, shaking his head at what might be a fond old memory. "My boy, I could tell you stories of all the blunders we made, back when I was just a rookie captain myself, before our crew had even a hundred souls yet."

And there, the urge to know more, to do as Sabo said and learn and listen and _see,_ brews once again in Ace's chest. He fights the old habit to keep silent, to mind his own damn business and walk away – he has to make an effort, otherwise how might he grow, achieve his goals both new and old? – and steps that little bit closer. A new and incredibly odd bout of meekness takes over as he asks, hesitantly – "Could you...tell me those stories?"

Whitebeard pauses, regarding Ace in stunned silence. Dread seeping into him like water leaking through the cracks of a sinking ship, Ace is ready to turn tail and regret having ever asked – and then the old man laughs, delighted as anything, startling Ace from his downward spiral into panic.

"Of course, my boy," he declares, eyes twinkling. "But the deck is no place to sit, lest you earn splinters on your ass. Come, climb up and sit with me." He pats his right knee, a harmless invitation that Ace, for the life of him (for the first time in forever), can't help but accept with a smile he'll admit is rather shy. So he gathers his resolve (strengthened by this man's warmth and patience and...acceptance, for now) and clambers up the chair to perch himself on Whitebeard's knee like a child half his age.

Once he's settled, Whitebeard offers a final smile and delves into a tale of a much younger pirate captain just finding his feet in a world before the reign of Roger, together with an even younger boy with sleepy eyes, lanky limbs unused to fighting or a life a sea and a crop of blonde hair to match his own (apparently Whitebeard had _hair_ back in the day), that it was all too often the pair were mistaken as father and son in biological terms. Not that it mattered either way; Edward Newgate loved Marco, unconditionally, the first of his many children to come.

Ace listens with rapt attention, grins and smothers laughter as Whitebeard speaks of times in which the young phoenix would get his talons trapped in the rigging after failed flying attempts, how Whitebeard nearly burned their little ship down trying to make breakfast more than once, how they'd nearly cried with joy when Jozu, a capable cook, joined and served them their first, un-burnt breakfast. How his little family grew and grew, years passing in the blink of an eye, until one day he wakes up to find millions under his flag, bearing his mark, calling him 'father'...

Ace can't imagine the feeling. Well, perhaps he can; he'd never imagined waking up in the morning to Sabo's quiet snores and Luffy's octopus arms squeezing his waist. He'd never imagined even living long enough to have something he can call 'family', small and crazy and somewhat broken though it is. But still good. Yeah, still good. Amazing.

Speaking of family...

"...um. Can I ask you something?" he says, peering up at the man through black bangs.

"Of course, Ace," Whitebeard says, draining the last of his rum in one mighty gulp. Everyone's gearing up for the midnight hour, close at hand; all hands are on deck, and Ace can just see Sabo standing by the railing with Luffy perched on his shoulders, both of them beaming fit to burst.

Ace laces his fingers together on his lap, biting his lip, before at last drawing a breath – "Why...Why do you let everyone call you 'Pops'?" he asks. "Why do you call them your sons and daughters? What's that all about?"

There's no defensiveness or indigence in Whitebeard's gaze, but gentle understanding as he raises his eyes to the hundreds of pirates gathered on deck. His smile grows endlessly affectionate, and something in Ace's heart clenches. "It's my dream," he says, "to have a family. I've never had an interest in material possessions, fame or fortune like most sailors do these days. Even One Piece holds no real value to me."

Ace splutters. "S-Seriously?" he cries, wincing as his voice cracks an octave. "You mean you don't want to –?"

"Become the next Pirate King?" Whitebeard shrugs, a careless thing. "If it happens, then so be it. But I'm not making plans to search for Raftel any time soon, no matter what treasures that old bastard left behind. Such things are fleeting, far too easy to lose. It can drive a man mad, because they're never satisfied. No matter how much money you have, the riches you obtain, you'll always want for more. But family, no matter where is comes from, no matter your blood or race or beliefs, can last more than one lifetime if the bonds forged are strong. And you'll never want for anything in the face of such happiness."

He smiles once more, looking down at Ace, and the teen can see a lifetime in those golden eyes, fulfilling and happy, exciting, and full of love and laughter. "That's the beauty of life on the seas, Ace. It doesn't matter where the hell we come from, we are _all_ children of the sea, for she doesn't discriminate. And that's what I strive to do, despite my own faults and the blood on my hands as a criminal. To have my own family of misfits, outlaws and lost souls searching for a place, a home to call their own on the seas of the Grand Line and the New World...what more could I possibly want?"

Ace stares and stares, rocked to his core. He clamps his jaw shut, words failing him.

He's heard stories of Whitebeard from...from the Old Man, back when he was young, wanting and yet not wanting to know more about his father, his enemies and deeds that led him to his execution. Whitebeard was often brought up, Rogers' greatest rival, even greater than the Old Man, a marine Vice Admiral with an infamous punch that could crack boulders in two. From what he heard, Whitebeard was a monster of a man, feared throughout the world for his terrifying power, the sheer strength and number of his crew unmatched – it's a wonder Roger lived at all if he'd faced such a demon.

But that's not what Ace sees before him now in the soft glow of the moon and stars and lanterns. What Ace sees is a man, a mere mortal like himself, wrinkles and scars marring his ageing body, hooked up to machines to keep him going most days. He sees a man who's lived the best life he could despite the wrath of the world and its rulers, despite the unkind, looming truth of death waiting for him with baited breath. He sees a man who feels _blessed_ by what he's gained, unbothered by what many might find he's lacking. He sees a man who's content, wise in his own ways, imperfect but trying, not at all a saint but not unkind...

On this day, mere seconds before midnight, Ace sees Whitebeard for who he truly is; not quite a monster – he's yet to see him fight, after all – but a man, a pirate...a proud and happy father.

 _Holy hell..._

Ace swallows hard, looks down at his lap when Whitebeard's gaze become a little too much to bear, the stinging behind his eyes threatening to overwhelm him.

 _'It doesn't matter where the hell we come from, we are all children of the sea...'_

Those words...they ring in his ears and rattle his brain, squeeze his heart and make it ache for something he's wanted but never deserved, or so he tells himself. Those words, wholly genuine and indiscriminate...

 _'...so...when he asked me to join his crew,'_ Ace thinks, _'it's not because...he pities me, or cares where I'm from or what – what we've been through. It's...it's because he really –'_

" _It's midnight!"_

Ace nearly slips off Whitebeard's lap, would have if not for the man's giant hand catching him at the last second, as cheers and laughter erupt from the throng of men and women, shaking the heavens as they declare as one – " _HAPPY NEW YEAR!"_

Whitebeard throws his head back and laughs uproariously. "Happy New Year, my children!" he bellows. "I'm proud of each and every one of you for all you've done, for making it this far! Let's see what this year brings us, and let nothing stand in our way!" A new chorus shortly follows, loud as the last. Ace can still see Luffy on Sabo's shoulders waving a stick of meat about as he wordlessly cheers. Sabo, though grinning just as wide, struggles to stay upright with Luffy's squirming.

The festivities continue, followed by a collective groan at Haruta's stupid joke – "Hey guys! I haven't showered since _last year!"_ – some flares and fireworks are shot into the air for others to 'ooo' and 'ahh' at, tankards are filled (and refilled) to the brim, and laughter and dance abound anew.

Ace has to grin. "Hell've a way to start the year," he mutters. Above him, a chuckle rumbles from Whitebeard's chest.

"Indeed. Never say that we Whitebeard's don't know how to have a good time," the man replies, goes to reach for his tankard only stop mid-motion, remembering it's empty. "Damn," he mutters in disappointment, and raises a brow at Ace when the teen snickers and then shrugs at him, feigning innocence. He shakes his head with a smile, and they both turn to watch the crew go at it with their usual gusto. Luffy pulls Sabo and a few others into a silly dance, one that those who've a little too much to drink stumble through dizzily; Thatch is balancing trays on both arms, letting passing members pinch what they like off the steaming plates; Marco is scolding Vista and a sopping wet Jiru hanging limp over Namur's shoulder, the result of what might've been a brawl gone awry.

Then – "Ah, Ace. If I recall correctly, it's your birthday today, isn't it?"

Ace stiffens, pales, neck cracking painfully as he spins to look up at Whitebeard. "Uh...I, ah – _oof!"_

A mighty hand, bigger than most of him, pats his back twice, not hard enough to hurt, as Whitebeard chuckles again. "Don't worry. Sabo let us know not to make a big deal of the occasion. But consider this," he sweeps his other hand out across the deck and its insanity, "as a celebration of both. Oh, and the commanders wanted me to give you this, seeing as they're otherwise 'occupied'."

He plucks something from the inner folds of his coat, and holds it out between two giant fingers for Ace to take. Once in his hands, Ace gapes and holds it with reverence. It's a dagger, the leather sheath an emerald green and immaculate. When he draws the blade out, it glistens in the midnight and lanterns, untouched and _perfect._

Ace blinks hard, looks up at Whitebeard's soft, knowing smile. "F-For...for me?" he asks, quiet and so confused, conflicted and so incredibly _touched._ "From...all of you?"

A giant finger ruffles his hair as Whitebeard's smile broadens. "Happy birthday, brat. Now, I think your brothers are looking for you. You run along now and enjoy yourselves. Don't worry about sleeping in, tomorrow is yours to spend as you please."

Biting his lip, bangs over his eyes, Ace manages a nod under the man's finger, and then he slowly slips off Whitebeard's knee and lands on his feet, the sheathed weapon held close and tight to his chest. He makes to join the fray and seek his brothers out (just follow the sound of boyish giggles and flying pieces of meat), but pauses one last to look back at the veteran captain over his shoulder. He shuffles a little, hesitant...and then he smiles.

"...thank you," he says, swallowing hard. He raises one hand to rake it through untamed hair, hat hand by the chord around his neck. "Any chance we could...spar again tomorrow?"

Whitebeard's grin is more than answer enough. "Bring it on, brat."

Ace's smile broadens into a grin to match the captains', and then he's marching through the crowds, feeling better, lighter, happier than he's felt in days as he tucks his new dagger through the hoops in his belt at his left hip. It sits snug, like it's meant to be there.

Sabo was right, after all. And Ace can start this year fresh, free of regrets, and with a new sense of excitement for what's to come.

(He can ignore the lingering doubts for now, drowning himself in the laughter and music and unity that comes with this crew. This family.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

The days pass, as they're ought to, but with a new air of excitement hovering over the Moby and her crew, anticipation and a hint of dread for aching muscles, bruises and early wake-up calls for three weary but no less happy teens.

Ace can see the changes in each of them, feel the difference with every spar and lecture (courtesy of Marco, ever the worry-wart and concerned First Mate, and rightly so, with a rubber ball of boundless energy and a miniature supernova parading about the decks waiting to cause trouble). The commanders have finally bumped them up to the next level, and every day sees them sporting new aches and pains, but they're improving. They're getting stronger, faster, _better._

The commanders have split into three groups for each boy, to train them in areas they're lacking or have specific interest in expanding, be they devil fruit based, tactics based or weapons training; Marco, Fossa, Kingdew and Jozu take Ace on, being some of the strongest commanders and more durable to Ace's outrageous brute strength – something said freckled teen is pleased to know hasn't diminished quite like he'd feared – and bursts of searing flames. Marco, both figuratively and literally, takes the younger fire user under his wing in that regard.

(He's still not yet comfortable beyond lighting up his fists, or illuminating a room with gentle fireflies from open palms. But Marco's patience and faith spur him on. Like Mei had.)

With Whitebeard added to the mix, seeing Ace go flying into railings and/or _over_ them into the sea becomes a common thing, enough that Sabo no longer bats an eye once he's certain someone (mostly Namur) goes sailing in immediately after him. Luffy watches and laughs, because of course he does, while Ace's eyes spin in circles from his latest attempt at flight via Pirate Captain Toss. Thatch calls it 'yeeting'. Doesn't sound like a thing, but Thatch insists it is.

Choosing proper teachers for Luffy was a challenge; never have the Whitebeard's come across anyone quite like the twelve-year-old, bouncing and full of youthful vigour unmatched, potential untapped. In the end, Thatch, Blamenco, Jiru and Blenheim were chosen (for Thatch's ability to make light of everything, make Luffy's training at least a fun experience, and the others because...well, no one wants a repeat of what happened to poor Wilhelm.)

Haruta, Izo, Namur, Vista and Curiel were chosen to mentor Sabo, with Haruta taking him down to navigation to get him started him on the basics. Sabo's passion for learning, not just of the seas and her currents but of everything and anything this world has to offer, hasn't dwindled in the slightest even after years in captivity. Needless to say, Sabo was driven near tears by the commanders' gesture, and is down there nearly every day, reading every night before crawling into bed late in the night. Ace hasn't seen his brother this happy since their first steal as a team back on Dawn.

Days after the delightful disaster that was New Years, Ace's heart is light and his body is sore in ways that feel _good._ Nothing like the endless aches and pains of hard labour and tortuous punishments that left him black and blue.

Speaking of, he hardly feels what had once been a searing pain in his spine. Even the bruises have all but faded, like they were never there at all. Almost as if the hell they experienced, the fear and tears and bloodshed and _murder_ , were naught but a nightmare. It's not the case, not even close, the memories and phantom pains too crisp and clear in his minds eye or in the occasional flinch to physical contact, to every nightmare that still leaves them shaking.

But it's a start, a good start, on the path towards the sun, towards true freedom.

 _We're almost there._

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Luffy's excited. More than excited, practically bouncing off the walls (Sabo's hand around his is the only thing that keeps him bound to the floorboards, but _wait_ till he's given free reign; nothing will stop him.)

Finally, after two long weeks of sailing, they're about to drop anchor at a new island. He hadn't paid much attention to what Marco said about this place other than there were no people, but plenty of wildlife to hunt in the dense jungles that spanned the entire island from it's sandy beaches to the peak of the highest mountain – which might actually be a dormant volcano, so watch out for that or whatever.

Still, a whole new island, just _waiting_ to be explored! Luffy can hardly wait, squeezing Sabo's hard hard enough that he grinds the bones and earns a pained laugh from the elder blond, who then joking tells him to "calm the heck down, Lulu! We're nearly there, just be patient."

Luffy nods, but continues to bounce on his toes as the Moby Dick approaches the island of endless greenery, untamed and untouched by man, the crew already making preparations for landfall. Who knew so much work had to be done to park a ship – then again, there aren't any docks to speak of, and sand is uneven, fluffy and sometimes sticky from his experience back at Dawn. Extra measures have to be taken in case the ship sails away without them. (He's got a lot yet to learn before he sets out to sea himself.)

Finally, the ship is successfully docked, tied off to the nearest, sturdiest trees and the anchor dropped. Luffy's slipping from Sabo's grip, slackened from his awe at the breathtaking sight of their temporary resting spot, and catapulting himself off the ship before the gangplank is even lowered. Startled shouts follow him as he flies through the air, but Luffy's learned from last time, and rolls into a crouch when he hits the sandy beach. Relieved sighs and cheers echo from the ship as Luffy stands, dusts himself off and offers a two-fingered salute to the crew as they amble off the ship a few at a time, his older brothers with them.

It's been so long since Luffy's felt sand between his toes, felt the warm breeze caress his face and muss his hat-less hair.

He takes a moment to shut his eyes, take a deep breath, and just _be._

It feels _amazing._

Despite his earlier excitement, he doesn't go rushing into the thick of the jungle just yet. Instead, he's content to sit on a nearby rock and watch the crew go about their business; teams are split to hunt for fresh meat and fruits to take with them on the rest of their voyage, others sent to scout the area in case of any unexpected surprises. There really isn't much to do otherwise; this island serves as a well-deserved break from two weeks at sea for the ship and her crew, and a little break from training for Luffy and his brothers.

Speaking of which, he can spot Ace by the edge of the jungle not far from where Luffy's sat. He's got his dagger out again (a collective birthday gift from Whitebeard and the commanders, how _cool_ is that?), twirling it between his fingers and striking out at invisible enemies. Luffy smiles, full of pride. He's as dedicated to mastering this art as Sabo is to studying charts and books and training with his staff. As dedicated as he'd been to Mei. And they're _happy,_ so incredibly happy and at ease, as if the last five years never happened.

(Only...Luffy still doesn't speak. He'll holler and laugh and giggle 'till the cows come home – whatever that means – but the words remain lodged in his throat. It frustrates him to no end, leaves him wondering why his brothers are already adapting, coming out of their man-made prisons, while Luffy has yet to undo the shackles binding him to his.

They've come a long way from what they were in the span of a month. It's uncanny, really, to think they were once... _property_ of someone else, something to be used and abused to the advantage of others, to be seen and not heard, damned to life in cells and shackles until their dying breath. Now, Sabo reads at night and climbs the rigging by day, wielding his new staff like it's second nature, no longer bowing his head and apologizing even less. Ace's fire burns brighter and hotter than ever, confidence growing – he even spars with _Whitebeard_ (even if he's sent spiraling across the deck every single time, grinning like a madman every time he gets back up.) And Luffy can't remember the last time he'd been so happy, playing with Stefan and Kotatsu, pilfering sweets from Thatch's kitchen and playing pranks with Haruta.

And yet...he keeps his silence.

He doesn't understand what's holding him back. Doesn't understand why, every time he opens his mouth to try, to speak, he freezes up. Like there's something inside him that seizes his voice with crooked hands and tells him _**no.**_ And despite his efforts, he always obeys.

What sort of Pirate King will he be if he can't even say his dream aloud for all to hear?

Luffy shakes his head, casting dreary thoughts aside. He'll figure it out eventually. He has to.)

With that, Luffy hops off his perch to look for Sabo. Time to quit sitting around thinking about sad stuff. There's an island to explore, and he's not about to make the same mistake twice by wandering off on his own without a word. He might be stronger now than what he'd been when the hunters took him...but better to be safe than sorry.

He has enough nightmares of isolation, loneliness and cold, dank cells without adding dying brothers to the mix, thank you very much.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Marco! Pops!"

Marco turns the same time his father does as Isaac, an older man from Fossa's Division, hurries towards them with his team of scouts in tow. There's dread in their wide eyes that gives Marco pause and churns his gut as they stumble to a halt in the sand, panting for breath. A brief look shared with their captain – he sees it, too – before Marco steps forward, arms crossed, casting worry aside. "What's wrong, yoi? See something?" he asks.

A beat, and Isaac straightens, sweat beading along his brow from the run and the midday heat. "We spotted another ship," he says. "Couldn't get a good look at their flag, but they've set up camp at the other side of the island. We saw their base from the side of the mountain back up that way," he points back the way they've come, up a slope of wild greenery that one might get a good look of the West beach.

Marco nods. "Pirates or Navy?"

"Definitely pirates. Don't think they've spotted us yet. Should we rally the commanders and investigate?"

Before Marco can reply – he's honestly not sure what the right call is, especially if these other pirates have yet to spot them or cause any trouble – Whitebeard shakes his head. "We'd best keep our distance. No need to make a fuss over nothing, so long as they don't trouble us. You say they docked on the West side of the island? In that case, we'll stay here in the South. Marco, inform the commanders and keep the boys clear from the jungle for now. They've grown stronger, but I'd rather not have a repeat of what happened on Tundra."

Marco nods, and Isaac and his team follow suit. Though it does concern the First Mate that they've yet to identify these other pirates staking claim to the other half of the island, to go investigate might be a little dramatic on their part, and unnecessary. So long as they steer clear and keep the kids in the know (and in their sight at all times), there's nothing to worry about –

"What was that about pirates?"

Marco turns, as does Whitebeard. Ace and Sabo are making their way over, confusion and concern creasing youthful features as they look between the captain, the First Mate and the little squad of scouts. It's Ace who asks, worry and a hint of suspicion in his tone, "What's going on? Are there other pirates docked here?"

There's no need to hide or lie about any of this, so Marco goes ahead and shrugs. "Yeah, we just received word. Unknown pirates have set up camp on the other side of the island, but I wouldn't worry about it, yoi. For now, though, we'd feel better if the three of you stuck close to the beach where we can see you, no wandering in the jungles or...what?"

He trails off as Ace and Sabo's eyes grow wider and wider with dread and perhaps a hint of fear, the pair trading a look that spells trouble for all of them. It's only then that Marco realises there's only two of them –

He closes his eyes, counts to ten – _don't shout, don't lose it, it's cool, they didn't know_ – and then opens his eyes, asks very slowly, patiently – "Where is Luffy, yoi?"

He doesn't really need to ask, but he does anyway, for the sake of his father watching on and the lingering scouts who've yet to depart. So it's no surprise to him when Sabo and Ace gulp once in unison, and slowly, wordlessly, point to the jungle.

 _Dammit to hell._

These boys will be the death of him.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Luffy hums a tune to himself as he treks through the thick, sweltering heat of the jungle, walking stick in hand; it's only proper for one to carry a walking stick with them on an adventure such as this, and he'd happened upon the perfect stick before even entering the jungle, just sitting there waiting to be snatched. So snatch it Luffy did, and now he's deep in the jungle, none but the breeze wafting through the trees and the quiet chattering of wildlife for company.

It's nice, he thinks, being surrounded by nature that speaks to him in a way that Tundra hadn't, the snow so thick and endless that it dulled the senses, muted the wildlife thriving beneath the blanket of white. Here, he's reminded of home. How the animals, wherever they lurked, were never silent even at night. Trekking through the foliation, over fallen trees and over muddy puddles and winding streams that flow through the land and back to the sea, he feels like he's back at Dawn, making his way back to Dadan's place to drop off their latest kill to roast on the fire, before retracing their steps to return to their new dwelling in the tree-house, a little home they made for themselves.

He misses their tree-house, misses Dadan and the bandits and Makino...maybe they should write a letter at some point, let them know they're still alive, they're okay –

He freezes.

Something pricks his senses again in a way that's steadily becoming familiar. Usually it spells trouble, danger, a warning for him to stay the hell away or run. But this time, like when he'd felt Kotatsu, _heard_ him though he spoke no words, his anxiety is silent. There's no danger here.

The jungle thrives and sings around him, but Luffy pricks his ears and listens harder, closer, brows furrowing as he inclines his head sideways.

 _There._ A strong presence, far stronger than he's felt except around Whitebeard, the strongest of them all. Confident, too, almost cocky he thinks, but oddly lonely. And then –

" _Gather up all of the crew, it's time to ship out Bink's Brew~"_

Luffy freezes, nearly trips over his own feet. A voice. An _actual_ voice, a _person._ But this island's supposed to be uninhabited...

There's a pull at his chest that begs him to follow despite his better judgement, despite the niggling threat that this might be a repeat of Tundra. But he fees no danger here, no fear like he had with the hunters, no reason for him to ignore the voice echoing from beyond through the endless green.

And he knows this song; Bink's Brew, a pirate's classic he'd learned what feels like a lifetime ago.

He drops his stick and takes off into the jungle, following the voice.

It doesn't take as long as he'd thought – he nearly falls into a ditch once and almost gets tangled in a curtain of vines twice, leaves and sticks in his hair and dirt on his shorts and feet, but soon enough, he's approaching the source of the voice. It's a neat little clearing behind a thicket of vines and low trees, sunlight beaming through a break in the canopy to land on a lone, cloaked figure sitting on the stump of a long dead tree, his back turned to Luffy.

" _Gather up all of the crew, it's time to ship out Bink's Brew ~. Sing a song and play along for all the ocean's wide~. After all is said and done, you'll end up a skeleton..."_

Luffy leans against the nearest tree and listens, mouth slightly agape as the person's – the man's voice, soft and steady, washes over him. The way he's singing...the boy feels sadness, suddenly, flowing off the man's bowed head and shoulders, like there's a weight pressing him into the earth that shouldn't be there, a sense of nostalgia and longing that tears at his heart...

He's half a mind to approach the lonely man, to help in some way, already taking a hesitant step into the light.

And then the singing stops. The stranger lifts his head, cocking it to one side. Luffy doesn't move another inch.

The man smirks, almost surprised. "It's not often someone sneaks up on me," he says. He slowly rises to his feet, and his black coat swishes just so as he turns to face Luffy. "To what do I owe the –?"

He stops. Everything stops.

Luffy's eyes go wide, jaw agape, heart pounding loud in his ears, hard that it might burst from his chest. His hands tremble, cold sweat dripping down his brow, tanned features paling. The man is no different, staring across the distance at Luffy as though he's a ghost.

The wind shifts, a black cloak and hair red as blood shifting with it.

The man blinks once, his only hand rising, reaching out, hesitant and hopeful and oh so _scared,_ and he whispers _–_

" _Anchor?"_

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N ~ ...** **AAAAHHHHH. Guys. I kid you not. This chapter. THIS. FREAKING. CHAPTER. I could not write it. For nearly a month, I have been stuck on this chapter because I could not write! Guess that boils down to stress and stuff, but STILL. And you guys...bless you all, your reviews have been AMAZING, more than I can count! But I'll try to reply to as many as I can!**

 **Nikitta Mikaelson - not to worry dear, this story is getting finished!**

 **Roxxye - aaah thank you! I honestly didn't think people re-read my stories XD Thank you so much for your lovely review.**

 **choco-muncher100 - XD XD thank you reader!**

 **X - ...I honestly can't tell if you're joking, but I'll update when I can. Writing takes time and a hell of a lot of effort. Please respect that :)**

 **SickApothecary - Rabid?! XD thanks for the reviews, hon! I've read them all!**

 **VisitorNo.18 - ACK! I just saw the error, I'll fix that! Thanks for that, and thanks for the review!**

 **Jennifer - Both your reviews got me right in the heart XD thanks!**

 **CanIHaveAHug - YES. WE ARE HERE XD**

 **Wordlet - Thanks hon XD Gosh, I really wanted to throw a 'yeet' in there, I wagered Thatch was the best choice.**

 **Sorry if I didn't answer everyone, but most of, I see, _hate_ cliffhangers XD**

 **So this chapter is shorter than I would've liked, but I didn't feel right keeping it going. Don't worry, I'll make due with the next chapter, promise :) _that's_ gonna be a fun one! So without further ado, Chapter 21!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. BEING A WRITER HURTS MY BRAIN!**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 21**

Few things take Shanks' breath away these days.

Makino, the beautiful young barmaid at the port of a sleepy village in East Blue, had been the first of many new surprises, though. New experiences, new feelings he never thought he'd have for another truly. Life at sea was and always will be a raging storm, and yet Makino was the sun beaming through the dark, dreary clouds in the aftermath, bright and fierce, breathing new life into this weary captain. It was a welcome change, despite Garp's...somewhat 'convincing' argument against their relationship. An argument that left Shanks carrying welts the size of boulders for a straight week. No one lets him forget it, not even Makino. _Especially_ Makino.

And she wasn't alone, for all that she felt she often was. There was a lonely little boy, one she watched over like her own in of Garp or Dragon's stead; a small slip of a child with a messy thatch of midnight hair and endless baby browns, wide and innocent; a young soul quick to love, quick to smile and laugh like he'd never known hurt, and scream his ambitions in the face of an Emperor, despite his naivete of the world he'd been born into but yearned to explore.

That was an unexpected surprise. One Shanks will never forget, and no one will ever _let_ him forget. Not that he blames them this time around.

He'd stayed as long as he could, visited. Makino, of course, made for excellent company, her little bar becoming something of a second home to the rowdy sailors every few weeks. But on quieter nights, Shanks would join the little scamp on the beach, watching the waves roll just shy of their feet, and regale him with stories of his earlier days, the unending wonders they unveiled with every daring venture.

Luffy, tiny hand swallowed in Shanks' calloused palm as they walked side by side, hung on every word, gazing up at Shanks through untamed bangs like he hung the moon and stars and everything in between.

It tore his heart, leaving that six-year-old behind.

Shanks had left a few things at the port that day – his arm, his lover, and a promise to the boy now donning the hat of his late captain – sailing away with baited breath for another wonderful surprise that might shake the world's foundations once more.

Then came the unpleasant surprises.

Ones that let that little boy fall prey to the cruel, greedy hands of the very world he'd dreamed of exploring. Ones that leave Shanks lying awake at night, guilt consuming him, rage engulfing the remnants of slave shops and auction houses, none but those undeserving left alive to speak of the scourge and blood-thirst swirling in the gaze of a sorrowing pirate searching for a treasure worth far more than any gold piece, crown or throne.

Those surprises didn't just take his breath away. It tore the lungs from his chest, squeezed his heart and let it bleed dry, leaving him dead in more ways than any man could deem possible. It's as close to broken he's felt since Roger's end. But unlike then, the loss of a child weighs heavier on the soul, impossible to recover...

Five years.

Five years of vain searches and constant dead-ends. Five years of calling a bereaved old Marine and his not-quite-daughter only to give them the same news over and over – Makino fighting tears, Garp's anger crisp and clear as though he were standing in the same room with him, or back on the island the day he received the grim reminder of how wretchedly unfair this world can be.

Five years of wishing, hoping, _praying_ and _denying_ because no, the world can't have swallowed him yet, not before his journey can even begin, not when there's a promise to be kept, a dream to reach, a world to _change..._

Five years, and hope was dwindling. Acceptance lurked on the horizon, ready to put an end to their search, try as he might to fight it tooth and nail. Doubt crept along the edges, leaving him and his crew near lost, aimless.

Some days, Shanks feels he's going mad, if he hasn't already. It's why he sought temporary privacy, a moment of quiet away from the constant chatter and squalling of his men, love for them aside. A moment to gather his thoughts and set them right, a moment to sing an old pirate's tune of loss and friendship, just to himself. Just for a little while. He'd rejoin them soon enough.

He's interrupted by a presence at his back, oozing curiosity and sympathy. Odd, he thinks, for him to be so easily blindsided. Perhaps he's losing his touch. Old Hawkeye would blame it on the booze, he muses, and Shanks wouldn't blame him. He _has_ been drinking a lot these days.

"It's not often someone sneaks up on me," he says. He slowly rises to his feet, and his black coat swishes just so as he turns to face this empathic stranger, cocky grin in place. "To what do I owe the –?"

He stops. Everything stops the moment he meets the same baby browns that he left behind on that little port, staring back at him across a jungle clearing.

Shanks doesn't move. Barely breathes. Doesn't dare blink or look away as sweat trickles down his brow, single hand trembling. But as the seconds tick by in harrowing silence, undisturbed even by nature's song, it's clear this is no dream nor a cruel illusion.

Five years of searching, and the boy he'd left behind, the boy he'd _lost_ , stands before him.

The win shifts, rustling leaves and unruly midnight curls. A young face pales, the sweeping scar under the left eye standing out against the natural tan of a young, familiar face.

 _Luffy._

He's – he's _grown,_ so much – he's still short, scrawny, all gangling arms and legs and shorts and sandal clad feet like before, but he _has_ grown, in all the little ways that matter, in ways that leave Shanks aghast, awed and proud and – and he's still _staring_ , rooted in place like a pillar of salt, like _Shanks_ is the ghost and not the other way around.

But he's here.

The boy – kid – _Luffy._ He's here. He's _here._ After so long, his kid is – he's –

 _Oh god, Luffy..._

Shanks swallows the lump in his throat, swallows the violent torrent of emotions swelling and swelling and ready to burst, blinking back the threat of very real tears as his eyes sting. Jaw locking, he reaches his hand up, uncertain and _scared_ in a way he hasn't been in so long –

" _Anchor?"_

The spell breaks.

Luffy – dear god above, _Luffy –_ blinks, and the world begins anew with a burst of vibrant sound, light and colors. He blinks again, coming back to himself with a hard shake of his whole body, breaths shallow and rapid. Shanks waits for a smile, a familiar, infectious laugh he's longed to hear, but it's short-lived.

Luffy's gaze goes from blank with shock to _fearful,_ arms drawn up close to his chest like a wounded creature. He takes a step _back –_

"No, nononono, wait, _Luffy –!"_

Luffy spins and disappears through the mess of vines and blooming flowers with a wordless cry.

Desperation and confusion lurching from deep within, Shanks dashes after him in a whirl of black and red. " _Luffy!"_

(Five years hadn't stopped him from scouring the seas for this boy. A jungle is nothing if not nettlesome in comparison, but damn him to hell and back if he doesn't tear this entire island apart until Luffy is safe at his side.

He'll never leave him behind. Never, ever again.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

" _Luffy! Little guy, come back!"_

"LUFFY! WHERE ARE YOU, KIDDO?! CAN YOU HEAR US?!"

"He's not gonna answer you, dumbass! He can't talk, yoi!"

"Well excuse me for _trying_ , Marco!"

Ace rakes an agitated hand through his hair, trying and failing to subdue the brimming panic for what feels like the millionth time in the last few weeks – a new record, even for him. Silver eyes dart every which way, desperate for a sign or tell, _anything_ , only to come up bare.

That's the thing about jungles; everything looks the same, unless you've lived in one your whole life and know your way about with your eyes shut. But this isn't Dawn – a giant tiger would already be upon them were that the case, or perhaps a bear – so Ace is blind, lost as a newborn cub in the infinite mass of verdure. He has no idea where they are, no idea where his baby brother has scampered off to _this_ time, and no idea where to even begin to look before someone else reaches Luffy first.

(He doesn't think about Tundra. Doesn't think of the hunters, or Luffy's wide eyes overflowing with tears, tied to a tree and powerless. Doesn't think of the life he so readily took in a spur of seething hatred. Doesn't think about cradling his dying twin in his arms, blood splattered across the white canvas of snow.

He _doesn't. Think. About it.)_

But that doesn't stop Sabo from doing just that, pacing as he is across the jungle floor, top hat twirling between nervous hands as he mutters incoherently under his breath. About what, Ace isn't quite sure, but hopes his brother is having better luck at forming a plan than Ace is, mind frazzled with worry and frustration – with himself for letting the little idiot wander off on his own regardless if he asked permission ( _have they learned_ _ **nothing**_ _from last time?!)_ and with Luffy for...

Well, Luffy hadn't known of the other crew before he'd trotted off in search for adventure, as is his habit. There's nothing to blame him for, other than his unquenchable thirst for adventure. (There has to a limit to the 'adventuring', though. There _has_ to be, else Ace might have a heart attack before he's twenty.)

The gathered Whitebeard's are no better off, trekking through the brush and scaling the trees (and falling out of them, in Haruta's case) in yet another search for the missing boy; calling out won't help when the kid can't respond, and spreading out in such thick and untamed terrain is nothing short of dangerous. Notorious strength or no, the Whitebeard's are still human...no less immune to surprise attacks, knives and bullets than any other creature that bleeds. And devil fruits are only so useful until sea stone comes in to play...

(The part of Ace that wants to blame himself for this mess, dragging the Whitebeard's out _again_ to search for their youngest, bleeds through the frustration, whispering in his ear with a sickly sweet voice that sounds oh so inviting.

He silences the voice and squashes the urge before it can go further, keeps his hands by his sides, away from his grinding teeth, and _focuses._ The pity party can wait.)

Whitebeard, the remaining commanders and the rest of the crew are still at the beach, standing by in case Luffy doubles back to their side of the island, leaving Ace and Sabo to go with Marco, Thatch, Izo, Haruta (temporarily out of commission via hard landing, defeated yet again by a tree) and Jozu to scour the jungle. Faces are lined with the same frustration and worry that churns Ace's gut fiercely, all unsure of what to do, where to go. Transponder Snail signals are abysmal so deep inland, and Marco's natural senses as a Phoenix are little help due to the array of new, bold scents assaulting him mercilessly –

Ace freezes.

 _Scents. Senses. A sixth sense._

Ace could slap himself. He is a _dumbass._

He whirls on Sabo instead, still making his own little groove in the dirt. "'Bo!"

The blond leaps a mile with a squawk before glaring daggers at Ace. "Now is _seriously_ not the time for that –!" he snaps, rightfully irate, but Ace shuts him up by slamming his hands on his shoulders and shaking him.

"My senses!" he cries, shaking his baffled brother a little harder, like it'll help. "I can find Lu with that...the weird...that _thing_ I can do! The sixth sense thing!"

(He's yet to tell any of the Commanders or Whitebeard about this...inexplicable other power he has. It was a steady thing, unlike the burst of pain and flames that were his devil fruit; he'd _feel_ things – the presence of servants before they even rounded the corner, the air the King carried with him everywhere he went that _always_ made Ace tense. He'd hear things, voices without words, secret intentions, sometimes emotions – something he later learned Luffy also has, but to a greater scale.

At first, Ace thought he was going mad. It was only a matter of time, so it didn't surprise him much. But he didn't succumb to it, as the days rolled by. Instead, he used it to his advantage; let it warn him of oncoming dangers (servants, the bastard king, guards and or vermin brave enough to attempt to take a bite out of a scrawny, dying child), for Mei when she was quiet, her face unreadable but her 'voice' screaming loud and begging for another sweet release than the one they'd vowed upon...and eventually led them to freedom with the help of Sabo's memory.

God knows why he hadn't thought of this sooner. He really is an idiot, more so for not yet bringing it up with the Whitebeard's. But that can come later.)

Sabo stares at him for a moment once Ace stops shaking him like a doll. Understanding sinks in, and he gasps, eyes bright with new hope. "Oh! Right, that thing!" he cries. "Right, okay...but will it work from a distance? We don't know how far Luffy's gone and your, uh...'range' I guess, is limited...?"

He sounds as doubtful of this as Ace feels, and it does sound ridiculous out loud, a step or so away from actual madness. Even so – "Only one way to find out," Ace says.

He lets Sabo go and steps back, hopping onto the highest perch he can, which is the entangled root of a giant tree. Rolling his shoulders back, Ace takes a steady breath for the first time since entering the jungle, and tilts his head back. For a moment, he watches the leaves shift and rustle in the breeze, the sky barely visible through the canopy. For a moment, he simply exists, basking in the fading glow of daylight.

He shuts his eyes.

He ignores the confused, back and forth bickering of the pirates, ignores the lingering stares from both Sabo and Marco (the latter having noticed his stillness), blocks out the eternal cacophony of nature, the waves crashing against the shore not far off, the chattering birds...he shuts it all out.

Silence envelops him.

Back _there_ , silence frightened him. It meant finality, death, despair, an opportunity for unwanted thoughts and feelings and truths to settle where they don't belong and fester like open wounds. Right now, however, Ace welcomes it. Here, he can concentrate. He can feel what he wants to, hear and listen and _see_. A sense of peace washes over him, like the cool waves of sea water caressing sandy beaches...

And then –

 _There._ The feel of sunshine after a dreary storm, a _voice_ that echoes with love unparalleled, a hunger for adventure and an aching for freedom that rivals his own –

 _Luffy. I can feel him. He's not far from here –_

 _Wait._

Something taints that voice, a dark, familiar feeling that's loomed over them for five years without letup or mercy –

 _Fear. Luffy's scared._

Ace's eyes snap open and he stumbles off the root, breathless as the world rushes back into focus sharply. It's dizzying, crippling, but he fights the need to lie down and pass out, tempting though it is because – because _Luffy –_

Sabo's hands are on him before he can blink, sure and steady, keeping him aloft as he seeks his gaze. "Ace, what is it?" he asks, keeping his voice low as the rest of the world rings in Ace's ears like blaring alarms for a moment longer. The gesture is wholly appreciated. "Did you find him?"

Licking suddenly dry lips, Ace nods. "I got him," he says, still a little breathless. He meets Sabo's wide eyes, the nausea (and _everything_ happening at once) finally passing, and he can think clearly again. "He's – he's running, near the other side of the island, towards the pirates. He's _scared,_ 'Bo, I think –"

There's no need for more. Sabo's eyes harden – with resolve or anger, Ace isn't sure, but the ice isn't there, not yet – and he lets Ace go, slams his hat back on his head, shoulders squared. "Lead the way."

Ace offers a wry, proud grin – _there's_ the Sabo he knows, the reckless blond from _before_ that he grew to love like a friend and brother _–_ before turning tail and running, following the pull of Luffy's aura deeper into the dense foliage. Sabo's not far behind.

He hears the commanders splutter and scramble in the dust they leave in their wake – "What – hey, kids, where're you goin'?!" "I think they've got something, yoi! Follow them!" – but Ace pays little heed, fire already licking at the surface of his skin as they tear through the jungle with newfound confidence.

Luffy's scared. He's _scared,_ being chased, herded like cattle straight into a waiting trap – another crew of pirates.

If Ace sees so much as one chain, an instant of fear in his baby brothers' eyes, forget morality. Forget _mercy._ The Devil will be a _godsend_ when he gets his hands on the bastards.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Looking back, Shanks never really gave Luffy much credit.

The back and forth silly banter between them was just that; silly banter between a kid and a dirty-mouthed, sarcastic pirate who's been _around_. Teasing that just brushed the borderline of hurtful, as boys are ought to. Still, he can't recall actually praising the boy for what he _was_ good at – like making even hardened buccaneers like old Ben crack a goofy grin, or how effortlessly he lit up an entire room with his presence alone.

(Stabbing oneself in the face to prove a point to grown-ass men _does not_ count as something even remotely worthy of praise, something Makino vehemently stressed while applying stitches to the sniffling brat's cheek, stained with tears and blood. Still, when all's said and done, they look back on it with fond exasperation, reminiscing simpler days with no shortage of excitement.)

He _will_ say this, though. Monkey D. Luffy is a _fast_ little bastard.

He's already lost sight of the boy. He can _feel_ him nearby, though, Haki flaring and scoping the jungle with ease – he'll be sure to pay old Rayleigh a visit and thank him for the years he'd spent literally beating that training into him as a brat, soon as he finds _his_ brat – and his Voice drips with ice-cold fear, doubt, confusion, guilt, an monstrous torrent of emotions that leave the pirate reeling from it second-hand...

Anger festers deep in Shanks' belly as he leaps over fallen logs and dips beneath curtains of vines. Sweat trickles down his brow, exhaustion creeping up on him with tempting fingers, but he pushes onward.

Luffy...he's always been a brash little thing, more so than even Shanks was at his age (and still is). Trusting, curious, loud-mouthed and goofy. But in all the time Shanks knew him, Luffy was never truly _afraid._ Sure he was a crybaby sometimes _,_ but he never ran away, was never afraid – only when faced with the idea of loneliness (a whispered confession on a starry night, shared and kept between a wizened captain and a teary-eyed child who deserved far better than the rotten hand life had dealt him) or death at sea in the gaping maw of an angered Sea King.

Even so, not once, in the face of New World pirates on the shores of his home town, or even the mountain bandits that later abducted him, was Luffy ever truly afraid. Nervous, maybe, shaken, absolutely. But fear was a foreign concept, a thought that barely crossed him, if at all.

But the flash of pure _terror_ Shanks bore witness to mere minutes ago...that wasn't Luffy. That was instinct, something drilled into him, a _default_ that had never been and never _should_ be. Not in the wonderful, brave little man born to be King.

 _What the hell have they done to my kid?_

Rounding a thick tree stretching high into the canopy, careful not to trip on its monolithic roots in his haste, Shanks grits his teeth against a snarl. He's not giving up yet, not when he's so close, _so close._ Whatever those heartless sons of bitches did to turn him into the frightened creature he's (blindly) chasing, he'll undo it. No matter how long it takes, what he has to sacrifice this time. God knows he's partly to blame, because he'd _left_ –

A squeak.

Shanks skids to a halt in a spray of dirt and leaves. He slowly looks over his shoulder.

Luffy's huddled against the base of the tree trunk, hugging his knees to his chest, eyes wide like a deer caught in lamplight. He's trembling all over, white as a sheet, curled up like he's trying to make himself as small as possible, protecting himself from...from...

 _Me?_

(It hurts. More than when he'd lost his arm. More than what he ever believed possible since he lost his captain.

He swallows that pain, the twinge of uncertainty – _does he even recognize me? Does he_ blame _me? –_ and takes another gamble.)

Ever so slowly, Shanks turns to face the boy proper. He doesn't step any closer, eyes fixed on the pre-teen's own wide pair; they're rimmed with red, like he's been fighting a losing battle with tears. Shanks finds himself doing the same, but presses his lips together and kneels in the grass and dirt, open and harmless. Luffy watches his every move like a hawk, like he's not sure what he's seeing is –

 _Ah._

Shanks smiles, a slanting, sad thing that he can't quite help. "...you don't think I'm real, do you?" he asks.

Luffy flinches, just barely, but enough to give the knife lodged in Shanks' heart another good twist. Eventually he nods, and Shanks' smile twists into more of a grimace against his will. "I figured," he admits, and he sighs.

This isn't his first time dealing with...this. They've come across plenty of broken souls in the past – fallen warriors, innocents seeking peace in whatever form it takes be it a bottle, blade or dose*, orphaned children and grieving wives. But this isn't another faceless soul. This is – this is _Luffy._ Luffy, who squeezed his way into his heart in ways no one ever has, not even Makino. Luffy, who showed him that there are still those out there who dare to dream impossible dreams and _pursue_ them.

Luffy, the closest thing, Shanks thinks, he might ever have to his own...

He can't break. Not yet, not now. Not when he has a kid to convince _._ So he offers another smile instead, broad and brash just like always, and holds out his hand. He doesn't move any more than that. Luffy stares.

"It's really me, Luffy," he insists, a step away from truly begging – if that's what it comes down to, he will, pride be thrice damned. "I'm here. You're not dreaming, I swear on my life. Hell, I swear on my other arm if you like. I'll just have Yassop fashion me up another one, easy. I'll be – I dunno, Metal Arms Shanks for the rest of my life, how's that sound? Doesn't _quite_ have the same ring to it as Red Hair but hey, I take what I can get these days –"

He's rambling, he knows, and it's stupid, getting him nowhere. But it's all he _can_ do, hoping Luffy doesn't decide to faint on him or run off again. He'll never catch up to him if he does. Maybe he _is_ getting old. Well, at least he has a good few years before the grey hairs start sprouting like the weeds they are –

So wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice the sudden shift, movement, the crack of twigs and dried leaves underfoot until a shadow looms over him. Shanks snaps his head up to find the wide, baby browns now inches from his own startled grey, staring at his face as though committing every feature to memory, scouring all the little changes, the wrinkles, the dark circles under his eyes.

Shanks dares to _hope._

Slowly, Luffy crouches until they're eye-level, lips pressed tight in a thin line. A trembling hand, bigger than what Shanks remembers but still so achingly _small_ that it breaks his heart, reaches out. Inch by inch.

Touching Shanks' scarred cheek with the soft tips of his fingers.

A soft gasp escapes parted lips at the feel of skin on blemished skin. Luffy's eyes widen, shock ablaze like flares in the night, understanding dawning. Shanks grins, a watery thing that he allows because it's _Luffy_.

"...hey, lil' Anchor," he croaks. "Miss me?"

That's all it takes.

Luffy blinks, and the fat, salty tears spring forth and overflow, an agonized whine escaping clenched teeth as tiny shoulders tremble.

Shanks can't take it.

He closes the distance in an instant, tugging Luffy to his chest and crushing him there with a single arm around his shoulders. Luffy gives way to helpless sobs as he buries his face into the crook of Shanks' neck, wailing loud and clawing at his shirt, holding on with all his rubbery might.

Tears leaking down his own face, unashamed, Shanks burrows a firm kiss into Luffy's hair. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispers over the force of the child's wracking sobs, ignoring the cracks and hitches in his voice. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay, Anchor, I'm here. I'm here now. It's okay. You're gonna be okay now. I'm not goin' anywhere, I swear it. Not leaving you ever, _ever_ again."

Luffy doesn't reply. He just cries and cries, burrowing deep against Shanks' chest, clinging to the man like he'll disappear in an instant, crumble to ashes in his arms and be cast to the winds at the snap of a finger**. Even if it were possible, Shanks wouldn't let it happen. Won't let _anything_ , be it the powers of this world or any other, god forbid, take him away from this kid. _His_ kid.

(He thanks the gods, the sea and whatever else is out there that Luffy is _here_ , that he's safe and sound and _alive_ , crying and blubbering like the crybaby he was when he left Foosha not five years ago.

Five years, and all his searching has paid off. He's got him back. He's got Luffy _back._

 _Thank you. Thank you, thank you,_ _ **thank**_ _you._ )

He doesn't know how long they sit amid the quiet of the clearing, holding each other, rocking back and forth and thanking unknown deities that had once abandoned them. But eventually, when Luffy's sobs have ebbed into messy, kitten-like sniffles and Shanks' legs have gone numb, they reluctantly shuffle apart. Luffy hiccups, scrubbing reddened cheeks and blotchy eyes with the heel of one hand, the other clutching Shanks' cloak with an iron grip not even the seasoned Emperor can hope to break if he wanted to. Which he doesn't.

Shanks sniffs roughly, blinking away the last of his tears as he brings his hand up, burying his fingers into Luffy's hair, all rough affection. Luffy lifts his head and meets his gaze, still swirling with tears but warm and soft and oh so _happy –_

" _Shishishi!"_

And there _, finally,_ is the smile, the dumb little laugh he's missed so dearly.

He's changed so much, and yet not at all.

Shanks chuckles back and cups Luffy's wet cheek in his palm of his hand, calloused thumb gently tracing the scar under his eye. A giggle bubbles out of Luffy as he grips Shanks' wrist, beaming fit to burst, just like always. Like he'd never left Dawn at all. Like he's never known hurt.

Shanks shakes his head, breathless and dizzy with relief and love so great it almost does him in. "My god, Luffy," he says, swallowing the lump again before it can grow into a crying fit to rival Luffy's. "What the...where – where've you _been,_ kiddo? I – Makino told – you were _taken_. How the hell did you get away? Have you been living _here_ the last five years?! Did they just – _dump_ you here? What about the other boys that came with you? What in the – what _happened,_ Luffy?"

It's a little unfair, firing question after question when the boy has barely gotten his breath back, but he needs to _know._ Escaping slavers is not easily done, especially for a tiny seven-year-old with a devil fruit he barely understands as a concept. No doubt the bastards slapped sea stone on him and called it a day, rendering him useless, weak and terrified in the bowels of a ship for hell knows how long.

He needs to _know,_ so he can find who did this to his boy and _**murder**_ them. They deserve nothing less for taking his kid.

Luffy smiles bright and eager, leans forward and opens his mouth –

Only to freeze, terror flashing like lightning in his eyes, and quickly clamp his jaws shut with a sharp, painful click.

Shanks falters, brows furrowing. "Anchor?" he prompts, tilting his head. "What's wrong?"

Lips pressed tight and thin, Luffy stares up at Shanks, rigid and silent.

Something drops in Shank's gut, sick and wrong _._

The red-haired captain leans back, looking over the boy. Physically, he sees nothing wrong. Some indistinct scarring around the ankles and wrists, no doubt left by chains digging into soft flesh made rough with ageing burns; he's a little thin, but Luffy's always been a string-bean so he's not worried, and he's packing some muscle, which is great. All in all, he looks healthy, whole. So why –?

And then he sees it. Or rather _feels_ it, what's left of another scar as the hand on Luffy's cheek slides down to his neck and stops there.

Shanks blanches, hoping beyond hope that he's wrong as his heart drops low in his chest with dread. But scars like these never lie. Scars like these, left behind not by chains but by strangling leather, the faint impression of a buckle just beneath the Adams apple –

A _collar._

His eyes rise to meet Luffy's, pain and barely quelled _rage_ etched in swirling silver, and he clenches his jaw hard. "Luffy," Shanks says, slow and gentle but _pleading._ "Say something."

Luffy's trembling again, tears springing forth and rolling down his cheeks unbidden, shoulders hunched to his ears. He shakes his head.

Shanks feels his heart break a second time and he sighs, long and weary from his soul, because he _understands_. "Oh, Anchor..."

This time, Luffy's sobs are barely audible as he curls into himself, forehead touching muddy knees as his body shakes. He looks so _small_ again, so breakable when he'd been anything and everything but only years ago...and it hits him, then, that Luffy is _bowing_ , not hiding in shame _._ He's – he's _apologizing?_

 _He's apologizing to_ me... _because someone_ _ **conditioned**_ _him, into silence?_

"No, no, Luffy – don't do that," Shanks pushes at Luffy's shoulder until the boy reluctantly uncurls and lets the pirate envelop him in another one-armed hug, hiding his face and tears in the black fabric of his cloak. The man stamps down the fervent hatred, just for now, and drops his forehead on the back of Luffy's. "Don't you dare apologize for this. It's not your fault. None of it is, you hear me? We'll...we'll figure something out. You and me, alright? We'll figure it out."

(God only knows how, though. Someone took an innocent child from his home, sold him, chained and _collared_ him, traumatizing him enough to render him _mute..._ that's not something easily _fixed_ , if at all. Shanks has no idea where to even begin, more out of his depth than ever, but he swears he'll try. He owes Luffy – and Makino, Garp, everyone who's heart this kid has touched – that much.)

He feels Luffy nod, silent sobs quickly ebbing to hiccups again as Shanks smooths his hair down gently. If the Marines – hell, if _Garp_ could see him now, they'd all call him soft, age creeping up on him and rendering him a sentimental old fool. Shanks wouldn't, and _doesn't,_ care. The world may think as it pleases, for all that he wants it to burn.

He'll fix this. Not right away, because damn if recovery doesn't take forever no matter the person, but he will. They will. Together.

Speaking of 'they'...

A grin steals Shanks' lips for the first time since making landfall, and he shifts Luffy in his arm and hefts himself to his feet with ease, the boy cradled in the crook of his elbow. Luffy squeaks in surprise, but doesn't hesitate to wrap his legs around the pirate's waist like a koala to a tree. Shanks chuckles, more so at the wide, teary but innocently befuddled gaze he gets in return as he begins the long trek back to the beach. Luffy weighs next to nothing, and carrying the boy on his hip comes easy as breathing to him, not at all awkward like he'd feared. Almost second nature.

 _'Do I want kids'?_ He muses – not at all perturbed by the idea, he's surprised to find – but dismisses it for now. He's already got one kid that sorely needs him, right here.

"You take it easy, Anchor," he says as Luffy's arms wind around his neck and shoulders for balance, minus his rubbery reach. "We're heading back to the beach. Got some friends who wanna see you."

Luffy gasps, and pins Shanks with a smile that could bring an end to wars and all the world's corruption and suffering. The question burning in chocolate eyes is clear and loud as any shout, and Shanks laughs – a real one, right from the gut, and _god_ does it feel good. "Yeah, you heard right. Get ready, though, 'cause if you think _I'm_ happy to see you, wait 'till those bastards get their hands on you. You'll never know peace again."

Not at all dissuaded, Luffy practically vibrates with newfound glee in Shanks' firm grip, beaming fit to burst and hugging his current ride with all his might – too much might, Shanks thinks as he wheezes and nearly trips over an upturned root, but carries onward with a new bounce in his step, a grin on his face and light in his heart, Luffy's giddy laughter music to his ears.

 _'God, I've missed you.'_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

By the time they reach the West beach, Luffy's excitement, while not at all diminished, has rendered him a useless noodle for Shanks to carry as he quietly dozes, his cheek resting against the pirate's shoulder, scrawny arms wrapped loosely around his neck. It's not the first time they've wound up like this – Shanks recalls a time when the boy was no bigger than his hip, nestling easily against him as he whisked the sleepy bundle up the stairs of Makino's bar and into bed. A boy so small, wholly trusting and at peace in the arms of a criminal, a man with more blood on his hands than any raging beast. How they must look now, that very boy whole feet taller and lankier than he was, sporting ugly scars inside and out, burrowing against Red Haired Shanks like he'll never find a safer haven anywhere else.

It's humbling, endearing, and Shanks barely hides a stupid grin that would make even Ben snicker. But he does chuckle, a hearty rumble from his chest that rouses his young charge from his nap, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand – it's expected, really, late as it's getting; the sun is already starting to set behind the expanse of mountains and sea, stars peaking through the inky darkness. Just how long have they been walking?

The telltale bickering and laughter echoes beyond the final stretch of jungle. Luffy perks up, wide awake, fingers gripping the fabric of Shanks' shirt hard enough to rip it. Shanks feels his grin broadening. "Ready to meet the boys, Luffy?"

Luffy's hair flies as he faces him, eyes brighter than any night sky, and nods until his head is literally bouncing on his shoulders – and then he signs something that certainly _looks_ like an agreement, hands and fingers moving rapidly with practiced ease and vigor. Even as the child wriggles in his grip in a bid for Shanks to set him down, the man nearly weeps with relief as he complies, letting the rubber boy lace their fingers together instead as they trek the rest of the way.

He knows Sign language. Thank god, he can still _speak,_ even if his voice is gone in one way or another. Unfortunately, Shanks does _not_ know Sign. Not fluently, like Ben and Yasopp and a handful of others. He should look into that.

The pair stumble through the brush, hand in hand, face to face with his own crew of misfits setting up for a party (do they ever do anything else? Of course not.) Barrels of booze are lined up side by side, sand pits are dug to make room for firewood to roast whatever catch they've happened upon in their captain's absence, men bustling about the beach in long-familiar organized chaos.

Then Lucky Roo, a drumstick halfway to his grinning mouth, turns and spots Shanks approaching from the edge of the jungle. A cheery greeting falls flat before it ever leaves his lips when he sees the small figure at his side. His smile drops like an anchor, meat falling from numbed fingers as he stares and stares. Luffy, glued to Shanks' side, stares right back. Lucky Roo chokes on his own breath –

" _LUFFY?!"_

Everything stops.

Men freeze mid-motion, heads turn as one. Jaws drop to the sand in silent gasps. Someone hisses a vulgar curse.

Ben is white as a sheet, cigarette falling from parted lips. Yasopp's eyes already have tears welling within. Silence reigns for an eternity and a half, disbelief, awe and hope festering in the air.

Shanks grins, looking down at Luffy. In turn, Luffy turns to the rest of the crew, eyes growing damp but the smile on his face never faltering – _"Shishishi!"_

And the beach explodes.

" _ **LUFFY!"**_

The heavens themselves tremble as the pirates cheer and scream their unbridled delight, scrambling towards the duo in a blur of sand and bodies. Luffy flinches only slightly at the volume, but his smile returns full force when Ben, the first to reach them, scoops Luffy up and holds him tight, swinging him around and grinning from ear to ear – Shanks swears he's never seen the man this happy in all their years. One by one, the boy is passed around like a parcel, each familiar face as teary as the last as crushing hugs and hair ruffles are eagerly given and returned, the yelling and cheering and crying not once abating, if anything it reaches new heights.

Luffy's laughter, tinged with tears of happiness, rings loud amid the clamor of blubbering buccaneers.

"Holy crap! Sweet mother of god on high, it's – it's _LUFFY!"_

" _Look at you, kid!_ You got so _big!"_

"Still a 'lil string-bean, though, my god!"

"We were so worried, boyo!"

"C'mere, brat! Give your ol' pal Ricky a hug!"

"I'm not cryin', _you're_ cryin'!"

"Who the hell brought out the onions?! I can't see shi –!"

"Hey, it's my turn to hug 'im! Quit hoggin' the kid!"

"Thank the seas you're okay, kiddo," and that's Yasopp, hugging Luffy tight to his chest like he would his own son, whom Shanks has only seen once or twice as a toddler, a grin splitting his suspiciously wet face in two. The sight has Shanks quickly swiping tears from the corner of his eye, trying and failing to be inconspicuous if the look Ben sends his way is anything to go by. Not that the other man is doing much better.

It's a sight to behold. Who would've thought the crew of an Emperor might be reduced to tears and incoherent blubbering at the sight of a twelve-year-old child? Nevertheless, it's a sight for sore eyes. Five years worth of searching, gloriously paid in full. All that's left is to crack out the booze, and it'll be just like old times in Foosha village in a little bar.

Oh what the hell.

He takes a breath, face aching from how hard he's grinning like he hasn't done so in years, and then raises his arm. "Alright, that's enough you bastards! Give the kid some damn room to breathe!" he calls. It's only with mild reluctance that the louts do as they're told, but not without a few lingering touches to Luffy's hair and shoulders as the rubber boy scrubs his flushed face free of tears. Once that's done, Shanks raises his voice once more –

"Alright, everybody! Kinda goes without saying, but Luffy's back, safe and sound! This calls for a celebration! Bring out rum! _LET'S GET DRUNK!"_

The resounding cheer is more than answer enough, and the crew gets back to making preparations, spurred on with a new strength that's been lacking the last five years, Luffy in the center of it all. He squeaks in surprise and joy when Lucky Roo scoops him up and sets him atop his shoulders, waddling away with the giggling boy in search of meat and booze.

Ignoring the sudden pang of protectiveness – _keep him close, don't let him go, never ever again –_ Shanks watches them go and stays right where he is, Ben and Yasopp at his side (the latter still wiping tears away with the crook of his arm.)

Ben crosses his arms, a new cigarette between his lips, smouldering softly in the evening, sea-salt breeze. His eyes never leave Luffy when he says, low and casual – "He's not talking."

Shanks inhales through his nose. How bold of him to assume his right hand would miss that. He hooks his hand into his sash, as far from his sword as he can lest he go for it and cut something down. "No," he says at length. "He isn't."

"Does it have anything to do what the scars under his neck?" Yasopp asks, following their gaze. They watch Luffy hop off Roo's shoulders and join in on rolling a barrel of beer to the center of their campsite, aided by grinning shipmates. The sharpshooters' fingers twitch towards the guns at his hip, but go no further.

Murder taints in the air between the three men. Anyone close enough can feel it, perhaps see it, and wisely keep their distance and flock towards Luffy like eager ducklings instead. It won't do to have a wonderful occasion dampened by foul moods and intentions itching to be carried out, so Shanks sighs and lets it dissipate. The men at his side notice at once, and finally turn his way, brows raised.

"I don't know what happened to him," he says at length, "or how long he's been here, how long he's been held or how long since he got away. Don't know if he'll ever tell me, either. And my sign is a little rusty, so even if he did –"

"He signs? Oh, thank god," Yasopp sighs, relief drowning the murderous intent seeping through the cracks of his composure as he rubs his eyes, weary beyond his years. Shanks sympathizes – and wonders, suddenly, how much this must tear him apart. He's a father of a boy Luffy's age, and though they're seas and seas apart, he loves the little one he left behind more than words can hoe to convey. God knows how he can handle this at all without the horrifying image of little Usopp in the same state, in chains and crying, flashing before his eyes...

Even Ben lets it drop, though his lips are a fine, tense line around the butt of his smoke. He claps a hand on the captain's shoulder. "We'll get him through it," he says. It's all he needs to say, because it's nothing Shanks hasn't already vowed to himself over and over in the last few hours alone. Still he nods once, and a wry smirk lifts Ben's lips. "For now, I say it's high time we took you up on that order of yours. Can't remember the last time I got drunk enough to –"

He freezes, the smirk falling. Shanks follows suit.

A tingle runs up the length of his spine, goosebumps along his arm, an instant before a plume of _fire_ sears through the trees and bushes at their backs.

"Mother F –!" Shanks splutters, barely side-stepping what might have been his untimely death via barbecuing. Yasopp screeches like a banshee, limbs flailing as he dives into the sand, arms over his head for cover. Ben's already recovered, gun in hand, glaring at the figures leaping through the burning greenery. Shanks spins on his heel, hand curling around the hilt of his blade, teeth grit into a snarl –

He freezes. Really _looks_ at who the hell has the balls to ambush him this time, and nearly joins Yasopp with his face in the sand.

They're _teenagers._ Their attackers, would-be killers, are freaking _teenagers._

One is donning a nice top-hat clad with goggles along the brim, and a stone-cold glare that sends chills down even the Emperor's spine as he brandishes a sturdy wooden staff with deadly purpose. The other bears an orange monstrosity of a cowboy hat with beads and a trailing medallion hanging from the brim – and flaring around him, along his arms and in his midnight hair, flames dance and spring to life, following the burning first held aloft, aimed at Shanks' head.

 _A Logia devil fruit. Bloody perfect._

They're drawing attention now, alarmed shouts and muffled curses blaring among the crew as the newcomers – _boys,_ barely older than Luffy, he'll bet – stalk ever closer, flames blazing, seething glares bidding each and every one of them die where they stand.

It's then, after sharing a brief glance with Ben, the duo ever in perfect accord, that Shanks realizes –

 _These might be the boys that came with Luffy. They're here for him._

He's quickly proven right when the flaming kid asks, _growls_ through clenched teeth _–_ " _Where is Luffy?"_

 _Got it in one._

Shanks holds his arm up, his stance wide open and hopefully placating. Ben lowers his gun, and Yasopp scrambles to his feet, gawking at the new kids in their midst. Shanks allows himself a little grin, because not matter the situation, he'll always be a cocky bastard. It's practically trademark by now. "Alright, aright, settle down there, boys," he says. "Chill out, okay? Before you try to flambé our asses, allow me explain –"

He pauses, again, as his eyes flick from the chilling mismatched blue and grey of blondie's to the fervent silver pair of the Logia kid. A tingle in the back of hi mind that he can't quite ignore, he squints, looking hard and close as he dares.

He's _seen_ those eyes before.

And...and the hair, the skin tone a lovely blend of pale and natural tan, the narrow face twisted in rage born to mask unparalleled worry and fear...and those _freckles..._

The world shifts on its axis.

...no. No. Surely it can't be. It's pure coincidence, a trick of the light, his mind playing tricks on him, taking full advantage of all the emotional turmoil and confusion of the last few hours. But he blinks again, and it's still there.

 _No. No, no it can't be..._

"...hey," Shanks breathes, staring at the boy – a boy that _shouldn't_ be, _can't_ be, but – but just _might_ be. The boy stares back, flames still flickers along his body, but the rage dwindling into mild confusion as he stares back at the pirate. Shanks braves a step closer, ignoring Ben and Yasopp and everyone but the boy with wavy midnight hair and sun-kissed cheeks. "Have – have we met –?"

"Hey, whoa, _Luffy wait –!"_

The moment is all but shattered as Luffy clumsily shoves his way through the throng of pirates, racing to meet the two teenagers. One look at the boy stumbling across the sand is all it takes for the fires to abate and the ice to melt, overwhelming relief taking their place as they open their arms. " _Luffy!"_ they cry, easily catching him as Luffy barrels into them, rubbery arms trapping them in a fierce embrace that they return with gusto, only to draw back to look him over, scanning him up and down. None too dissimilar to what Shanks had done. He feels himself smile at the sight.

(He can't help but sneak glances at the freckled kid, though.

It...It _can't_ be...

But considering his kid just _happens_ to appear on the same island the Red Hair's have dropped anchor, this might as well happen, too. And he'd thought not even the Grand Line could be _this_ crazy.

Perhaps there's still _plenty_ of surprises left in the world for this captain.)

"You okay, Lu?" said freckled kid asks, framing Luffy's face between his hands in a careful hold like one might handle a small, injured pup. Luffy nods, breathless but chipper as anything. Blondie, meanwhile, keeps one hand braced on Luffy's shoulder and his eyes warily trained on Shanks and the crew still gawking at them, mildly curious and confused alike. The ice has receded with Luffy in their midst, but the warning is clear – even if the confidence Shanks often finds among youngsters who try to take them on isn't _quite_ there. Like the kid knows he'll lose, but he'll fight tooth and nail regardless. Like he's just getting used to being brave again, standing tall.

(Blessed as he is to never know the cruelty of slavery first-hand, those Shanks knows who have, struggled – and still do – expressing anything but timid submission at the slightest sign of trouble. No matter how long they've been captive, or how long it's been since they were freed, this is impressive.)

Shanks respects that, admires it, even – feels oddly proud, despite not knowing the fierce little bastard glaring literal daggers at him – which is why he nods at Ben, and the man ushers the crew back, give the kids some space. Which might be needed as Luffy steps back from Rou – _Freckles,_ to rapidly gesture with his whole damn body, probably explaining the situation in a typical 'Luffy' fashion. The older two pay rapt attention (thank the stars _someone_ understands him, or maybe they taught him?), ignoring the pirates for the first time.

Then their eyes pop from their sockets, jaws dropping to the sand. As one, their heads snap up from Luffy to gawk at Shanks like the sun's shining out of his rear, and they _blanch._ Blondie blinks hard, raising a shaking finger to point at the expectant and rather bewildered captain.

"You're – you're Red Haired Shanks?" he stammers, the frigid glares and half confidence gone in the midst of awe and mortification, a sentiment shared by the gaping freckled boy at his side.

Shanks flashes a grin, an utterly wicked thing that Makino would smack him for, and spreads his arm. "In the flesh. Impressive, right?"

Someone scoffs a ways behind him, another chokes on a laugh while others merely groan. He ignores them, but carefully considers who exactly will be drowning tonight.

The older boys trade a glance, halfway horrified and awed, an odd mix but a hilarious one. Between them, Luffy laces his fingers behind his back and rocks idly on his heels, smiling and waiting. And then – "Sabo," Rog – _Freckles_ croaks, a pitch or so higher than his former growl with a touch of hysteria. "Did I nearly roast _Red Haired Shanks_ just now?"

"Yeah," Blondie – or Sabo, apparently – shakily nods. "Yeah, I think ya did, Ace."

Shanks very carefully doesn't flinch.

 _Ace._

(Half of Shanks wants to join in on the new burst of laughter erupting from the soon-to-be drunken louts he's claimed as his crew, as he has every right to. This whole debacle truly is hilarious, from finding their long-lost kid on a nameless island mere days after Garp's suspicions sparked hope in his heart, and every moment after. Hilarious, uncanny, and beautifully rewarding.

The other half of him, however, kind of wants to cry again, looking at Rog – Freck – _Ace_.

There's no denying it, now. He's _definitely_ theirs.

The world is ugly yet beautiful. Vicious yet benign. Predictable...and yet not in many, many ways. Ways which include finding lost loved ones on forgotten islands, and discovering something – someone – whom the world had dismissed as a rumour...

And Garp, of all people, calls him 'grandson'. Shanks has to scoff, shaking his head.

 _'Roger, you son of a bitch.'_ )

"You should've roasted him, yoi."

" _WHAT_ the hell!?" and then Shanks, with a handful of others caught off their guard, leap a good foot in the air at the sudden, very reluctant appearance of none other than Marco the Phoenix. His eyes are as sleepy as ever, narrowed gaze mildly irritated as he steps through the curtain of trees and onto the beach, standing behind the young trio and regarding the startled captain, arms crossed over his tattooed chest. Behind _him,_ about four other commanders emerge, twigs and leaves sticking to clothes and hair and sweaty faces, thoroughly unamused.

Luffy, Ace and Sabo all turn to face the new(new)comers, not at all intimidated or surprised, a far cry from Shanks and his lot. The older pair actually _wince,_ looking _sheepish_ of all things _,_ at the half-glaring commanders.

"Uhh...hi?" Sabo squeaks.

"What we _just_ say about running off alone?" Thatch squawks, throwing his hands in the air. "Do you have any idea what we've been through tryin' to keep up with you?! I fell into a ditch! Haruta nearly sprained his ankle! Izo got attacked by a snake! _Twice!"_

"What if something happened to you?" Izo scolds, arms folded, hair in baleful disarray, but make-up still intact. How, Shanks will forever wonder. "You were miles ahead of us, taking off with no warning whatsoever – what were we to do if either of you got hurt, hm? Next time, you either wait for us, or you _tell_ us before you decide to rush head-first into god knows what."

"...we did find Luffy, though," Ace offers, gesturing said boy between them who just looks happy to be here, happy and content with everything in general. When all that gets him is a long, long _Look_ from each and every commander, the freckled lad bites his lip against another awkward smile, shuffling in place. "Sorry. Won't happen again."

The Whitebeard's collectively scoff, wholly disbelieving but lacking malice. "Yeah, yeah," Thatch mutters, dusting dirt off what might have been pristine while sleeves once upon a time. Then he looks up, finally noticing their audience. "Oh, hey Shanks."

Shanks stares. And stares.

Marco sighs, long and heavy, and turns to face the frozen captain instead. "Hello, Red Hair," he drones, completely and utterly done.

Shanks stares some more.

This...looks like it's gonna be a _long_ story.

* * *

 ***A reference to a song called Hope of Morning by Icon for Hire. Great song :)**

 **** In case any of y'all forgot I'm a huge MCU fan ;)**

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N ~ Hello my friends! I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, I'VE BEEN A BUSY, STRESSED, SICK LIL BEE! And also it was literally too hot to write at one point, I could NOT focus! But lo and behold, Chapter 22 at long last!  
**

 **Again, I had a wee bit o trouble with this one. So many things I wanted to cram in one chapter that the final word count is...13,493...wow...I need to cool it XD Hopefully I won't have the same problem with the next chapter.**

 **A few shout outs (there are a LOT of reviews for this chapter XD)**

 **Wordlet - it's okay if you're late XD And I will cherish your reviews, always XD**

 **xheartkreuzx - Thank you, my dear!**

 **ShroudyRowdyPow - I'm sorry for the wait, I'm spewing all the words as fas as I can XD**

 **Jennifer - ehehehe you make me laugh XD thanks for the review, hon :)**

 **VisitorNo.18 - THANK YOU! Yeah, my word count can use some work ;^_^**

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 **Kohumi - I love you! Thank you for reading my story so many times :D**

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 **VKMP - Gotta love getting hurt in the FEELS XD**

 **Rsur Thorai - EEE! Thank you so much! Don't worry, we'll be getting more of Sabo and Ace very soon! I can't wait to sart delving deeper into Sabo's new motivations and goals, and Ace's final decision :)**

 **silverwolf-fox - PUPPIES! Thanks hon!**

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 **Sorry I didn't get to all of you, but I love and appreciate every single one of you SO MUCH. On with the fic!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. WRITING REALLY HURTS MY TIRED BRAIN BUT I SUFFER FOR YOU!**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

For a long time after their capture, Luffy sometimes took the time to sit and wonder.

Wonder about...well, everything.

Wonder if he and his brothers would live to see another sunrise outside unbreakable bars, taste the fresh air, see the ocean waves crash against the shore, feel pure earth beneath their feet instead of frigid, lifeless tiles. Wonder if they would live to see their teens let alone adulthood, or if they'd even have the will to _want_ to if it meant growing up in hell.

Wonder how Makino was doing, after being forced to watch them get dragged aboard a ship, kicking and screaming – Luffy crying _,_ Sabo begging and cursing his bastard of a father (it was never a secret who hired the men that snatched them up), Ace biting and clawing to hide the fear pulsing through his veins like ice.

Wonder how Dadan was doing – for all that she liked to tell them otherwise, the woman did care, like Garp with less punching and more indignant screaming.

Wonder if their grandfather even knew what happened, if he was looking for them. Or if he'd already given up hope, thinking them dead.

These thoughts plagued Luffy during sleepless nights, whilst he sat idle by the princesses throne trying not to choke or cry from humiliation and fear. Sometimes they comforted him, thinking about the people he loved. Other times they brought nothing but regret and heartache. But he couldn't bear to _not_ think about them at all, else he'd forget them completely. It was an endless cycle.

But sometimes, as he curled up with Ace and Sabo in the farthest corner of their dank cell, his brothers strong arms the only protection against the blistering cold that bit at exposed skin, Luffy caught himself wondering about Shanks.

Luffy doesn't remember his birth parents. He knows he at least _had_ them, but there's no memory, nothing tying him to them except his grandfather, who even then refused to tell Luffy anything other than "they loved you, even if they couldn't raise you." Which is nice, but it isn't much. Not much at all. He chose not to be bitter about it; everyone has their reasons for doing things. Who is he to judge them?

(He'll never admit it, not to Garp, his brothers or anyone, but those views have changed somewhat since their damnation. If Luffy's parents are still around, if they truly love him, _where the hell were they_ when he _actually_ needed them? Do they even know? Do they even _care?_

Every time those thoughts surge, however, he squashes them quickly. It doesn't matter. Never has. Best let it be before it festers into something to rival Ace's hatred for Roger, or Sabo's abhorrence for the parents that _sold_ him. Hatred, resentment, when you let it consume you, is a horrible thing.)

Then there was Makino.

Makino, who looked after him for years without complaint. Who let him sleep with her in her bed when he was little, who gave him treats at her bar between tables no matter how busy she was during the day, gave him baths with lots of bubbles, kept him company after nightmares where the walls closed in and the dark threatened to swallow him whole.

Luffy likes to think that's what a Mom might be like. Or maybe a big sister, since the barmaid was only young.

Dadan was a step closer, and much older than Makino – she was so much like Garp in some ways and so much like Makino in others (despite her best attempts to hide the fact – Luffy knows she checked up on them after moving into their tree-house. The blanket he'd kicked off to the other side of the room couldn't have grown legs and walked back over him, nor could fresh clothes just appear over night. Luffy's not stupid.)

She was a grumpy Mom, but a Mom in all the ways that mattered.

But Shanks...Shanks was nothing like how he'd imagine a father to be like.

The pirate captain was loud – he didn't shout, but he laughed like nothing mattered in the whole world; it was a great laugh. He was dirty-mouthed, rough from his years at sea, his crew even rougher and rowdier than anything Luffy had come to know in all his years living in Foosha. Shanks told him stories, countless tales about his adventures, the places they'd seen, the people they met, the treasure they unearthed worth more than anything Luffy could imagine. He sang shanties with his crew in glorious chorus, he took Luffy to walk along the beach and look up at the stars, holding his hand, naming all the constellations though Luffy would never remember them all come morning...

Luffy likes to think that's what a Dad might be like. Whether Garp shares the sentiment or not.

But thinking of Shanks _back there,_ unlike the memories of Makino and Dadan, brought Luffy little comfort. If anything, it only reminded him of what else he'd lost.

He'd lost his hat. The treasure Shanks had _trusted_ him with, the treasure they'd sworn an oath onto. The treasure he was supposed to carry with him when he set off to chase his dream, to surpass the captain who _believed_ in him, who sacrificed his _arm_ to save him. The treasure he was supposed to _give back_ once he attained that dream, once he became King...once he was well and truly free...

When Luffy thought of Shanks, all he felt was regret. An inkling of fear of the utter disappointment, sadness or _anger_ he might find on the man's face if he could see what became of the boy he'd bet his arm on, entrusted his treasure to. Not that he really believed they'd ever cross paths again. Fate isn't always so kind, nor is the world. A hard lesson to learn, but learned quickly all the same.

And then they come face to face for the first time in nearly six years, on a nameless island in the middle of the Grand Line far from that little port in Foosha.

Luffy takes one look at the shock, hope, and disbelief in the captain's wide eyes staring deep into his own –

And he runs.

He runs, because he fears it's a trick, an illusion, a _lie_ his brain has conjured to torture him more than he already has been. He runs, faster when sandal clad feet pound after him, because he's not ready yet. Not ready to face his past, not ready to face the heartbreak, the shame.

He's not ready for Shanks to look at him, at what he's become, and turn him away.

So he hides. Just like Sabo taught him, curling up and making himself as small as possible against the trunk of a tree, breathless and dizzy and scared and unsure if this is even _real._ Maybe the heat's getting to him? Maybe he'd fallen asleep in a clearing somewhere, like Ace did early this morning – it's becoming a weird thing, Ace falling asleep at random times, but only ever in their room, on the bed or on the floor with Kotatsu who's more than happy to plop himself atop his 'warm-human' – and now he's dreaming? A very, _very_ lucid dream.

Still, Shanks finds him. But he doesn't come any nearer. He starts talking, rambling the way he does around Makino whenever she gives him her special smile, nervous and constant and hopelessly nonsensical.

Something not even a lucid dream could conjure, Luffy knows.

So Luffy uncurls and approaches, kneels inches from the pirate. Reads the burning hope, the _joy_ in his eyes, no trace of bitterness, disappointment or hate. Reaches out.

Touches his face, and draws back with a gasp because it _is_ real, and then –

"...hey, lil' Anchor. Miss me?"

The dam bursts, and Luffy finds himself squished against Shanks' chest for the first time in forever, an arm trapping him there in a fierce embrace, lips pressing into his hair and whispering assurances, thanking gods and promising him the _world._ Luffy latches on with both hands and cries. He cries and cries, overjoyed and relieved and so damn _sorry_ that it wrenches him from the inside out.

Shanks is here. After all this time, Shanks is here, someone is _here,_ someone's been looking for him, for all of them, and he's been _found._

(It's the first time that Luffy's felt a semblance of _home._ The Whitebeard's are close, getting closer, but this is _Shanks._ And in the safety of his embrace, as they kneel in the clearing and then as he dozes on the trek to the beach, he never thought he'd love or miss this 'home' so much.)

It only gets better from there.

Even after Ace nearly fries Shanks to smoulders, after the Whitebeard commanders crash through the foliage, annoyed and relieved (Marco takes one look at Shanks and Luffy decides he's far more annoyed than anything else, but it's the funny kind of annoyed that Thatch incurs), the Red Hairs aren't deterred. Confused, yes, but it's quickly cast aside when their captain, as usual (god he's missed this 'usual') dismisses Marco's 'we need to talk' face, turns to his crew and declares –

"MEN, COMMENCE GETTING DRUNK AGAIN!"

And just like that, the cheers resume. The baffled looks on his brothers faces only add to the hilarity, and Luffy gives himself hiccups laughing so hard.

Shanks and Marco take their leave amid the preparations, heading back to where the Whitebeard's are docked at the other beach. Luffy's not nervous. He trusts Marco, and believes in Shank's strength if anything comes to blows, which it won't. Luffy's sure of it.

In the meantime, he has a party to attend, and brothers to introduce. Two families to bring together.

Fires are lit, meat is roasting, drinks are poured and shared, and soon the whole beach is alive with the sound of merrymaking. The liveliness doesn't dip even an inch when the rest of the Whitebeard's arrive half an hour later, Shanks and a very resigned Marco at the head of the group, Whitebeard towering over them all; if anything, the fun only doubles, and more drinks are poured, the lines between the crews blurring quickly in light of celebration.

(Luffy idly recalls something about the two crews being rivals, enemies or something. Looking at them now, drinking and laughing and tumbling in the sand after poor attempts at dancing with their arms linked, you'd never be able to tell. It could be the booze, though. Luffy's never gotten drunk, doesn't think he'll ever try it, but if it can all but erase the latent hostility between adversaries on the sea, he's not surprised why others seem to love it.)

In the center of this wonderful madness, Luffy is again swept up by multiple Red Hair pirates, none having yet their fill of hugs, hair ruffles and honest to god _cuddles_ from the not-so-little-anymore rubber boy; Yasopp is by far the clingiest save for Shanks and Ben (the latter always a little reserved compared to his shipmates, the former sitting under a tree next to Whitebeard and talking in hushed tones) hardly leaving Luffy alone for more than a minute before scooping him up again.

Ace and Sabo aren't spared from the affection, either. Despite having never met the older boys, knowing Luffy seems to be more than enough to drag the befuddled teens into their antics, their joy and alleviation. The pair take it in stride, now used to this sort of lunacy aboard the Moby Dick over the last few weeks. Luffy's proud of them for it.

But when Ace warily explains to a nosy crew-mate that they're also Luffy's brothers...

"HOT DAMN! I didn' know lil' Loof had brothers!"

"You serious?! _Wow,_ Luffy didn't say a damn thing!"

"Y'don't much look alike but hell, I ain't judgin'!"

"Pop a squat o'er here, let's talk!"

"Did Lu ever tell you 'bout how cap damn near got 'imself trampled by cows 'cos he was tryin' to teach the kid how to cow tip?!"

From there, Luffy's brothers are lost in the sea of pirates, nearly drowning in them before Ben shoves his way through the crowd and shoves them back, demanding they give the boys room to breathe for _god's_ sake.

Lucky, too; Sabo's looking a tad too pale, and Ace's eyes brim with the start of panic, a flicker of fire along his fingertips.

The Red Hairs are quick to take notice, and even quicker to back off. They mean well, Luffy knows, but if living around drunkards teaches a kid anything, intoxication makes you forget things.

Like how the three boys they're eager to talk to, to hug and get to know all over again or introduce themselves to, were slaves not long ago. How talking to strangers, instilling trust and physical contact is something they're still getting used to, relearning to differentiate a friendly pat from a slap or punch. How too much, all at once, no matter the intentions, can quickly turn things sour.

(Even Luffy has to admit, he's a little overwhelmed. It was never a problem five years ago, having so many to talk to, to hug and laugh and sing and dance with. But now...now it's _different_. Now, he almost wants to hide, find a place away from the wonderful insanity and _breathe,_ just for a moment. It's not a feeling he likes, not in the presence of friends, family. But like everything else, it'll be a long time before that feeling goes away, if it ever will.)

Thankfully, Ben's always had a higher tolerance, knows better than to get completely skunk-faced, and breaks up the crowds with a few sharp _Looks._ They part quickly, offering apologies, and instead settle down to talk one at a time. A brief look shared between Ace and Sabo, and the tension ebbs, the fire dwindling to nothing. The teens sit on the sand, Luffy wedged between them, and they delve into stories of their early time together, Ben keeping a close vigil and a secret smile.

A few Whitebeard commanders aren't far off, but Luffy doesn't miss the look shared between them and the first mate; a firm warning and a solemn promise, before they turn the other way like it never occurred.

Luffy has to grin. The Whitebeard's protectiveness never fails to amuse him, nor does it fail to warm his heart.

From there, the fun never seems to end. Luffy is thoroughly embarrassed in front of his brothers by Red Hairs with their own stories of Luffy's antics, tales of adventures are shared (some taken with a grain of salt from a sceptical but no less curious Sabo, others Luffy doesn't even get to hear when Ace slaps his hands over Luffy's ears) and pirates come together, despite their rivalry and differences, to do what pirates are ought to do – _party_.

Luffy laughs, bright and alive. With Ace on his left and Sabo's arms draped around him from his right, and two wonderful pirates crews surrounding him on all sides – Shanks only feet away, overjoyed as the rest of them, unfazed by his silence and set on doing whatever he can to _help,_ without a sign or tell of disappointment – Luffy's never felt happier. Never felt safer.

It's good to be home.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"So, that's it, eh?" Edward muses, swirling the booze in his tankard idly. Red Hair's men certainly spare no expense when it comes to the drinks they pilfer from lord knows where; he has half a mind to ask where he gets them, but quickly thinks better of it. The nurses will _not_ take too kindly to it, and Whiskey is terrifying as it is on a _good_ day. "You sail across the New World and Paradise, wrecking havoc left and right, all in search for one boy?"

Below him, taking redundant shelter beneath the leaves of a palm tree and Edward's own large shadow cast by the rising moon, Shanks chuckles after a hearty gulp of his rum. His grin is wide and unrepentant, as usual, but bright as any star in the sky, content with the world. "Yup. _Three_ boys, if you count blondie and sparky," he quips, gaze cast across the beach to seek out said youths sitting around a fire and watching one of Shank's men re-tell another outlandish story; their grins are wondrous and mirthful, Luffy's by far the widest. "But yeah, that's about the gist of it. Should'a seen the look on those poor bastards faces when I asked. Not one of 'em seemed too shy to point out the folly of an Emperor lookin' all over the world for a slave."

At this, he looks up to meet Whitebeard's eye. His grin isn't unkind, but it's not warm. "Don't suppose you share their sentiment?"

Edward almost scoffs. "Have you _met_ me, boy?" is all he says instead, leaning back against his perch and raising a brow at the other captain.

Said brat blinks, and promptly throws his head back to laugh. "Yeah, should'a seen that coming," he chortles, taking another swig of his drink.

They sit in companionable silence, watching their crews go at it. It's a relief from the constant chaos of the last few weeks, and a pleasant surprise in Edward's honest opinion, though Marco will (and has) gladly attest to that. Who the hell would've thought the very man whose brain he'd wanted to pick on certain matters would not only drop anchor on the same island, but shares a connection with one of their newest unofficial additions to the family?

Be it fate or destiny, it's still laughably convenient.

Thus far, he's satisfied by what he's learned, what he's seen and heard. Shanks had spared him the minor details, but made it abundantly clear in his own way that Luffy – Monkey _D._ Luffy – is well and truly loved by the other crew, cherished by every member, even the few who've never met him. In the short time they'd known each other, paths crossing on a small island somewhere in East Blue, the boy had changed the reckless apprentice of Roger in ways none ever thought possible – enough to bet his arm on the oncoming era, on the bright future that awaited the child he'd chosen.

Enough to have him scour the world, to burn it to the ground pillar by pillar if it meant they could be together, working in secret alongside a Vice Admiral of all people to make that happen.

Edward hides a grin behind his tankard. Luffy's always been a curious little one, like his brothers. But this, well...this certainly shakes things up in a big way. As Luffy will, when the time comes.

Edward can hardly wait, and for all that he's not religious, silently prays to live just a little longer. He wants to see this child rise to the top.

"I guess I don't need to wonder what happened on Garnet Island now," Shanks says, his tankard depressingly empty now. Edward looks down, and Shanks meets him with another lopsided grin. "You really went to town. Haven't seen the damage yet myself, but knowing you and yours, well," he shrugs, whistling lowly. " _Damn_."

Edward chuckles despite himself. "Believe it or not, Bay was being merciful. She let the Queen and Princess be, and only set – what, six fires across the island? Maybe seven."

" _That's_ mercy?"

"Of course. Had it been my way, I'd have started at least eight." That earns him another laugh, and a wry grin as Edward chugs the last of his rum with a satisfied sigh.

(They both know the truth. Had it been Edward's way – hell, if _Shanks_ had his way – there would be little more than smouldering remains of the island itself. They should thank their stars that they'd sailed too far to turn back, that Shanks hadn't yet known, and only faced the wrath of Bay for the suffering they caused, the pain those three little boys were endured.)

"How long since they boarded?" Shanks asks, setting his tankard aside in the sand and leaning back against the tree proper, his only arm braced atop his knee. He's watching the boys again, and Edward follows his gaze, watching as an indignant Luffy tackles Ace into the sand, just far enough from the fire to avoid any disastrous accidents. Sabo fails to stifle his laughter, not that he really made an effort, joining the pirates humored chorus.

"Hmm. Just under a month, I'd say," Edward replies. "We've been training them these last few weeks, and despite all odds they've made excellent progress. Though Ace seems to have made it his life's mission to be tossed overboard every time the two of us spar," he adds with an impish, unrepentant grin, because it's _obviously_ Ace's fault he keeps careening into the sea or into unsuspecting crew mates. He's got guts, stuffed with them as Vista mentioned once, not that Edward ever doubted. Really, he's proud.

Shanks hums. "No self-preservation, I see. Reckless kid," he scoffs, but it's oddly fond. Edward can't fathom why when he's barely said two words to the boy yet, but Shanks doesn't give him time to ponder. "Knowing Luffy, he's probably just as bad, right?"

"He keeps scaring the living hell out of my commanders by twisting his head at 180 degrees and bungee jumping from the crow's nest, if that's what you mean."

Shanks nearly chokes on his laughter. "He hasn't changed at all!" He wipes a happy tear from the corner of his eye. "Please tell me Blondie's at least a little responsible, then."

"...yes and no. He'll readily scold his brothers for their foolish antics, and is an excellent student, helping his brothers to read where they struggle and such. But he's just as likely to join them in their hunts for trouble if goaded enough. And Namur's had to wrangle him down from the rigging when he gets tangled trying to climb it."

Shanks wheezes, bent over, only arm hugging his gut. "For the love of god! You've certainly got your hands full, haven't you?"

Edward couldn't fight the grin if he tried. "I do at that. I've yet to see an end to their shenanigans – if there ever _will_ be an end, knowing how indulgent my sons can be with children. But I never said I was a responsible parent, so I'll let them have their fun."

(Lord knows they need it. More than anything. They're testing the waters, the new boundaries set not by masters, but by allies, friends – family, he wonders, hopes. Edward will gladly let them, but only for now. He might not be the most _responsible_ parent, but every father has their limits when it comes to the antics of his children.

That is, until Ace turns their way and meets Edward's gaze briefly, sand in his wild hair and on his clothes, something Izo will scold him for later. A hesitant but real smile splits the boys' freckled face before he turns back to his brothers, and it's just enough to nearly have the old captain throw every rule out the damned window if it means the boy can smile like that every single day.

He's getting soft. Oddly enough, he doesn't mind much.)

"That being said," Shanks muses after a stretch of quiet. "How much of a fight will you put up if I try to take them?"

Edward Newgate pauses. He slowly turns his head to look down at the smaller captain. His smile is challenging, a brow raised. He already knows the answer – he just wants to rile this old man up, as usual. It's almost working; the fact that he'd asked at all is nigh offensive itself.

He doesn't have to think about it, the answer as natural as breathing. Like he would for any of his sons and daughters spanning across the world, Edward would fight to the death for those boys; three children who've already been dealt a horrid hand by the world and suffered in ways no one ever should, and yet carry onward towards recovery and freedom no matter what stands in their way, be it hunters in snow coated forests or pirate Emperors.

Of _course_ he'll fight. However – "The real question, I believe," Edward says slowly, "is _will_ you try, Red Hair?"

Shanks' eyes narrow, and they stare at each other. Though careful to keep their tempers in check, an aura ripples from the captains, steadily growing until it catches the attention of half the division commanders and at least five of Shanks' men, though they're subtle about it. Fingers twitch towards weapons, always carried even amid merrymaking, a question in lingering stares.

And then Luffy, still squirming as Sabo attempts to rid him of sand and twigs from his wrestle with Ace, blinks once and slowly turns their way. Sabo, not pausing in cleaning his brother up, gets a clouded look in his eye, a hint of frost creeping at the edges. Ace doesn't look at them, but his hands twitch, like he's going to light them up –

And then Shanks laughs. Again.

Edward almost rolls his eyes. Cheeky punk. Why did he expect anything different?

It dispels the rising tension; hands fall away from weapons and heads turn away, drawn back into the swing of the party. Ace's shoulders lose their tension, and he lies back into the sand despite Sabo's chastising. Luffy watches them a moment longer, curious as ever and alert as a meerkat, before allowing Sabo to continue his ministrations without complaint.

"Naw," Shanks says once he's gotten his laughter under control, standing and dusting sand off his cloak and pants. "As much as I'd love to steal lil' Anchor and the murder twins from under your mustache...I can't take care of them. _We_ can't," he admits, and though his grin barely falters, pain laces his words as he averts his gaze from Edward's. Of course, it flutters right back to Luffy, now leaning against Sabo as Ben indulges them with more stories, softly spoken but no less thrilling. Ace, oddly, is asleep in the sand next to Luffy, his head pillowed on the younger lad's lap. Luffy idly strokes his hair as the older snores away.

The corners of Shanks' eyes crinkle with fondness at the sight. "I can't give them what they need. Not even Ben or Yasopp. Taking them with us will probably do more bad than good at this point, anyway. Besides that, Luffy and I made a promise." He smooths a hand over the stump of his left arm, almost subconsciously. "And I made a bet."

Edward watches him. For all that the world deems them enemies, a rivalry born from bloodshed and hatred and their position as Emperors ruling the seas...the truth is not quite as melodramatic as that. Rivals, yes, but where one has lived long enough to see kingdoms rise and fall, one was (and still is, at times) a brat when they first crossed paths, still getting his sea legs in order as he stumbled after Roger's coattails like a newborn foal.

Annoying he may be at the best and worst of times, but it's hard for one to hate what was once a baby-faced boy with goals and dreams as bright as his own. Hell, they share drinks and stories of the fallen every now and then.

To see the man that boy grew into now...damn it if Edward's not feeling some second-hand pride. He wonders, briefly, if old Roger's watching from wherever the hell he's ended up, if he's grinning that stupid grin of his.

Thoughts avert to the present as Shanks faces Edward one last time, his new grin a rueful but deeply thankful thing that he'll never admit aloud, least of all to Edward. "I'll let you hang onto them a little longer," he says. "You and your guys have more experience than I do, both with their situation, and in wrangling trouble-making brats."

Edward shrugs his giant shoulders, feigning nonchalance, but not at all taking this 'blessing' lightly. "They certainly keep my boys on their toes, which keeps me entertained. Haven't had the pleasure of watching Marco's feathers get ruffled so badly since Haruta joined," he chuckles. Then he levels Shanks with an solemn stare; a solemn oath, a promise – "They'll be fine with me and mine."

It seems to do the trick for the reluctant redhead, and he nods. "Good to hear. And how long do you plan on keeping them with you? Just out of curiosity."

"The choice to stay or go is theirs and theirs alone, as discussed between myself, the commanders, and the boys themselves. However, I did recommend they make the choice by the time we reach Sabaody – turning back won't be an option for us once we set course for Fishman Island."

Shanks nods again. "...fair enough. Well, best of luck to you on that end, but be prepared for surprise visits, and not just from me; pretty sure once I break the news to Garp, he'll chase you all the way to Raftel to strangle you and then thank your corpse."

"I'd expect nothing less from that crazy bastard. I have to admit, I never thought his boy would ever risk having a child of his own, knowing what happened with Rouge."

"Don't I know it. Oh, and if you ever let anything happen to those kids, you won't have to worry about Garp. _I'll_ hunt you down, and _I'll_ kill you. All of you."

It's not an idle threat, far from it, in fact. Still, Edward shrugs. "If such a thing occurs, I'd be a failure of a father and a disgrace of a pirate. I'd gladly let you."

"Glad we have an understanding." Shanks turns on his heel with a swish of his cape, already making towards the party when he chimes over his shoulder, tone lighter by spades – "Welp, now we've cleared the air, I've got two new brats to meddle with! Later, Whitebeard!" He trots off, ready to badger three unsuspecting boys who know nothing of their impending doom.

Edward watches him go and doesn't bother to hide his grin, shaking his head.

It's good to know, however, that the boys aren't truly alone as they'd thought. They have a home waiting for them when they're ready, and two pirate crews – Emperors, no less – at their backs, willing to fight and lay down their lives for them.

(And, apparently, fight for joint custody.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Midnight comes and goes, and the party starts to wind down. Drunkards are passing out one by one, flopping gracelessly to the sand in heaps, regardless of which crew they belong to; quiet chatter and laughter lingers for those still awake or strong enough to hold their liquor (or simply can't get drunk like normal people, something a certain birdbrain can attest to). Shanks, proudly, is among the strongest drunks on the seas if he says so himself (and he does) save for Whitebeard, even if the siren's call of sleep whispers sweet nothings in his ear. Still, he keeps awake, forces himself to, for just a little longer before calling it a night.

There's still one more brain he's yet to pick.

Sitting by the fire, Ace is wide awake (he'd dropped dead to the sand minutes ago only to jerk back into waking with a confused snort – Shanks has a feeling as to what that means). Silver eyes stare at the dancing, dying embers, deep in thought. Luffy and Sabo are fast asleep, the blond slumped against Ace's left shoulder, arms crossed over his chest and the brim of his impressive top hat shielding his eyes; Luffy's sprawled along the sand in a typical Luffy fashion, Ace's lap serving as his pillow as he snores away, gaping mouth ready to attract flies. The fire brat doesn't seem to mind at all, carding absent fingers through Luffy's black mane.

The sight, so domestic and tender, brings a wide smile to Shanks' lips. Even in the hell they suffered, not one of them was ever truly alone, without love at all. He thanks the powers that may or may not be for small mercies.

As he approaches, the eldest (he assumes) teen immediately tilts his head in his direction, fingers stilling in Luffy's hair – Haki? Impressive – before recognition dawns and he relaxes. Shanks raises his hand in a lazy wave. "Yo. Surprised to see you still awake," he says. "Sorry I didn't get a chance to talk with you earlier, the old man and I had to settle a few things. Mind if I sit?"

Ace blinks once, and quickly shakes his head. "Uh, no – I mean _yes –_ I mean, y-you can sit here," he stumbles, making a face at his own blunder, cheeks tinting pink. Shanks chuckles and takes a seat in the sand just in front of the lad, giving him and his sleeping charges plenty of room. Looking at the rubber brat in particular, he'll definitely need the space if his habits have changed at all from his flailing sleepy octopus days.

The captain tilts his head back, gazing up at the stars floating in the endless black ocean. He whistles softly. "Grand Line stars," he sighs. "Never gets old. Y'know, I used to show Luffy all the constellations I could remember when he was little. Or, _littler_ I guess. He never remembered them, so he kept on askin'. I never got tired of it, though." He looks back at Ace, the older boy watching him with rapt attention. "He reminds me of myself when I was a brat. Always curious, asking questions, never satisfied. Guess that's what led me to the sea. And what lures him, too, despite the warnings...and Garp. Don't imagine _he_ took the news lightly at all."

A soft chuckle from the teen, almost fond. "Yeah. That old bastard used to beat us to hell and back if we ever mentioned becoming pirates," he murmurs. A beat of hesitation, and then the boy leans forward, something new in his eyes that's almost pleading. "Is...Is it true?" he asks. "That – that you and the old man...you've been –?"

"Working together?" Shanks finishes for him, and he huffs. "Guess word gets 'round quick once the booze comes out. But yeah, we are, or I guess we were. He's the one who told us, actually. Sailed all the way from wherever the hell and asked for our help, under extreme secrecy of course. Can't have the World Government hearing of a Vice Admiral teaming up with an Emperor."

He leans in, meeting Ace's eyes and holding them. "He's never stopped looking for you three. Not once. Granted, he's limited to what he can do under the jurisdiction of the Government, hence why he sought me out, but he never lost hope. Still hasn't. He answers every time I call, even if it hurt the both of us each time we came up empty. He sends me possible leads, classified information on certain rings and locations that could damn well get him thrown in Impel Down for treason...all for the chance it might save you." He shrugs a shoulder. "I admit, he's a complicated man. Difficult and a right pain in my ass on a good day...but he cares. He loves you. All of you."

Ace stares and stares, the air between them thick and heavy in the silence. Then he blinks rapidly, swallowing hard and biting his lip. He sniffs once and quickly ducks his head, waves of black hiding his face. "...r...r-right," he croaks, so soft that the captain strains to hear him. "Right..."

Shanks leans back again, giving the kid a moment to compose himself. That was a hefty barrel he'd just burst, probably too soon. But it's best the kid knows, lest he spends his life wondering why a random old pirate scoured the seas for them and not their own family.

(Speaking of the coot, he'd better give him a call soon. But not _too_ soon; give Edward a _little_ head start before the old mongrel hunts them down with the fury of a thunderstorm. But only a _little._ God knows Garp's suffered as long as Shanks has, waiting for this day.)

Soon enough, Ace lets out a slow, quiet sigh, his hand still in Luffy's hair. The boy in question stirs, cuddling closer to his human heater/pillow. Ace then shifts Sabo, who's starting to slide a little, to lay his head on the free space on his lap instead, setting his hat aside; the blonde barely snorts, sleeping away, blissfully ignorant of everything. Once they're settled, Ace meets Shanks' gaze once more, unsure and hesitant, if not a little guilty.

"...I...I uh...we never really apologized for nearly killing you earlier," he says at last, rubbing the back of his head with the hand not occupied with Luffy's curls. "Sorry about that. We...we thought Luffy was –"

"No need, kid," Shanks lifts his hand to silence him. "I get it. Really. I'd do the same thing. Have already, if the arm wasn't already a clue," he shrugs his left shoulder and what's left of the limb that once hung there.

Ace barely stifles a wince, but is quick to offer a small but genuine smile, soft as anything and oh so reminiscent of _her_ that it damn near aches. "About that...Luffy told us a lot about you. He used to go on and on to me and Bo about you saving his life when he was young," Ace says. And then, after a moment of indecision that Shanks patiently waits out, Ace bows his head low.

"Thank you. Thank you for taking care of our little brother. If you hadn't, I...I don't know where we'd be without him."

Shanks can only stare.

He can't imagine how hard it must be, for one to bow their head again after enduring half a decade of submission, dependent on it lest you lose your life or one you hold dear. For Ace to do this, willingly, even out of gratitude is a mighty brave and humbling thing to witness.

Makes a pirate's heart swell with pride. And a new kind of...love, he supposes.

(To see the kid that never should have been, already growing into a man they'd be right proud of.)

He reaches out to ruffle the mane of wavy black (tinged with streaks of strawberry blond if you squint). Ace looks up at him with big eyes under the hand, blinking hard. "No need to thank me, Ace," he says, letting his hand linger a moment longer before dropping it and sitting back. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Luffy's like family to us, in case that wasn't already clear. And any family of his, blood or otherwise, is family to us, too. That means you and sleeping beauty here, too," he nods down at Sabo, who's rolled onto his side so he's facing Ace's stomach.

Ace's smile is wider than the last, relieved and adoring all at once as he carefully swipes a stray curl from Sabo's sleeping face. "Thank you," he murmurs. Then he pauses, blinks, looks back up at Shanks. "Wait, how'd you know we weren't related?"

Shanks tilts his head. "Hm?"

Ace shrugs. "Well, I mean...people kind of just assume we're related when we tell them we're brothers. And we never exactly told you, and it's not like we don't look nothing alike – well, Sabo's blonde, but still –"

Fighting a laugh, Shanks shakes his head. "Nah, I get it. I would've bought it, though, had Garp not told me about how you found each other; it _is_ kinda scary how similar you three are despite there being no blood between you. You met only after all that craziness with the bandits and the sea king, right?"

Rolling his eyes at the mention of all of Luffy's ridiculous antics in his early youth (ahh, those were the days) Ace nods. "Yeah. We swore brotherhood over some sake we stole when Bo and I were ten, and Luffy was seven."

Shanks splutters. "Underage drinking _and_ theft? Lordy, you three were _born_ to be pirates!"

The younger two stir a little at Shanks' hoot, grumbling in their sleep before settling down once more. Ace sends the pirate captain a weak glare in warning, lips pressed thin and a brow raised, wholly unimpressed –

And it's just too much, too close to _her_ that he can't take it anymore.

"God," his sigh holds a watery laugh, and he rakes his hand through messy red strands. He shakes his head, fighting the sting behind his eyes as he look at Ace. Looks at _their_ boy. "You're so much like your mother."

It's like someone's dumped ice cold water all over the boy as he _freezes._

His whole body goes ridged, eyes wide, mouth agape, flushed cheeks paling until he's white as a sheet, getting whiter. His voice catches on a breath when he whispers – "What."

Shanks' smile falls. The kid's not shaking, not yet, but he's getting there. Like he's using every ounce of strength to keep still lest he wake his brothers. But he's not angry. He's _terrified._

' _Makes sense,'_ Shanks thinks, leaning forward again to look the frightened teen in the eye, chin braced in his palm, elbow on his knee. On the one hand, he knows who his parents were; something a child should always know, _deserves_ to know. On the other hand, _he knows who his parents were._

Meaning he knows he shouldn't exist, disgusting and unfair a concept though it is, because of their reputation. Or rather, his father's reputation.

A part of the captain wants to take it back, make a joke of it all like he would anywhere else with anyone else, ease the tension and walk away. But this isn't just anyone else. This is _Ace._ Rouge and Roger's _son,_ the one thing Roger was so excited about, even knowing he was going to die. The only thing he asked of Garp (of all people) to keep safe, to protect once he was gone, Rouge included.

Rouge hadn't survived. But Garp still kept his half of the bargain with Ace despite everything, and now he's here and _alive._

(And the adoptive older brother to a runaway noble and, ironically, the son of another very wanted D.)

He deserves Shanks' honesty. And though he certainly could have and _should_ have been more delicate about this, there's no going back. All he can do is ease the blow as much as he can, and hope he doesn't scare his would-be nephew off. So he looks Ace dead in the eye –

"Yeah," he says, soft enough for the two of them; they're not the only ones still awake, and some with sharp ears are still sober and wandering. "I know."

Ace swallows hard, shoulders hunching as he draws back from the older man, like he wants to run and hide. Something tells the captain he's not aware he's even doing it, like it's instinct, ingrained into him like the brand that no doubt sits somewhere on his body. His hand moves from Luffy's hair to his shirt, and he clenches the fabric tight in a paling fist. Neither Luffy nor Sabo twitch as their pillow stiffens.

"...h-how?" he stammers, swallowing again like he's holding back bile.

Shanks offers the boy a smile he hopes is reassuring. "Only because I knew them well. Loved them, really," he says softly, warmth in his heart where there had once been ice cold grief made fresh with the loss of another boy. "You've definitely got your mother's curls, and her _freckles,_ damn – she was covered in 'em, always got teased every time she stepped out in the sun. You've got your dad's hair and eyes, though. Yours are a shade darker than his, I wager."

The very mention of Roger sours Ace's expression something awful, upper lip cured up in a snarl, eyes darkening as he glares at the sand.

Something in Shanks' heart breaks.

He purses his lips and casts his gaze downward, and lets himself hate Garp a little bit.

 _Congrats, Vice Admiral. You've let a kid learn to hate his own father._

Angry as he is, he just as quickly lets it go. There's naught he can do about that. If what he'd heard of Rouge's death was true, that meant the kid must be, what, sixteen by now? Nothing he says here and now will undo over a decade and a half of resentment, justified or not. Even if it hurts like hell to look at, to think about – learning to hate someone who loved you without ever getting the chance to meet you is a sad, sad thing. But Shanks won't dwell on it. It's a miracle itself that Ace is here at all.

So instead – "Do your brothers know?" he asks.

Appeased for now, hate evaporating little by little from his gaze, Ace takes a breath, shoulders slowly drooping, the fist in Luffy's shirt loosening. "...yeah," he croaks. "They know. We don't keep secrets like that from each other. And I trust them."

Shanks nods. "Good. Alright. Does Whitebeard know?" At Ace's sharp look, eyes wide as dinner plates, Shanks knows better than to laugh but barely stifles a surprised snort (and ignores the pang in his chest – that's Roger's ' _please for the love of God don't do it_ ' face through and through, and damn him to hell if he hasn't missed it.) "Guess that answers that. And don't worry, if you don't wanna tell anyone else, I sure as hell won't. You have my word, Ace."

Ace regards him a moment longer, looking him up and down. Shanks doesn't move, doesn't once avert his gaze. Eventually, Ace sighs and hangs his head, shaking it with a scoff. "Fine," he drawls. He looks up again, and his eyes and smile are somewhat defeated, weary. Shanks hates that he, inadvertently or not, put that there. "Guess one more person knowing can't hurt. What the hell, right?"

Leaning back, Shanks offers the poor teen a crooked grin. "What the hell indeed," he mimics. "Out of curiosity, though, why don't you want ol' Whitebeard to know? Because of their past?"

Looking more and more miserable by the second, Ace nods. Shanks inclines his head. "Fair enough. They were rivals, Roger and Whitebeard. The pair of them could go toe to toe and still end at a stalemate every time. Watching those two go at it was the scariest and coolest thing I ever saw when I was a brat – I was no older than Luffy when I joined, in fact. But as far as the whole bloodthirsty enemies thing goes...I wouldn't go _that_ far."

At that, Ace lifts a brow. "Huh?"

Shanks shuffles closer, mindful of the sleeping duo. "Look, I can't change your mind about Roger, and that's alright. Your feelings are yours, and you have every right to come to your own conclusions, whatever they are. But as far as people you can trust, no matter who you are or who your parents were...Whitebeard is your best bet. He hasn't let you down yet, has he? You know you and your brothers are safer with him than anywhere else on the whole damn sea."

Ace bites his lip again, hard enough that Shanks fears he might draw blood as he worries it between his teeth. He lets him think, drink everything in. "...but...but my blood, my – Roger, he –"

"Whitebeard won't give a damn about any of that, kiddo. That, I can promise you. It's something I admire about him – hell, I probably would've joined _his_ crew had Roger not gotten to me, first," Shanks adds with a huff, then reaches for the boy's shoulder and squeezes. "If you wanna keep it a secret, that's fine. You wanna tell him, that's fine too. I guarantee, though, you'll be surprised by what you find."

Ace hesitates again, looking down at his lap where two heads lie, ignorant of their brothers' plight. His fingers twitch again, eyes shifting.

So Shanks goes ahead and adds – "Besides all that...do you really think I'd leave my Anchor, or you, or even Sabo, with my enemy if I thought for a _second_ any of you would be in danger?"

' _Not in a million years'_ he thinks vehemently. These boys have been through enough betrayal and heartbreak in their lives, and Shanks will sooner snatch them up and sail to the ends of the earth with before anyone else can get that chance again.

Ace seems to slowly understand that. A beat, and then he nods, breathing in deep and sighing. "...okay. I'll...I'll think about it."

Shanks grins, patting Ace's shoulder and resisting the urge to pull the confused, conflicted kid into a hug for all that he looks like he sorely needs one. "That's all I ask, bud. And on that note, I think it's high time you got yourself to – woah _hey now –!"_

He's wholly unprepared when Ace's eyes droop shut and he suddenly pitches forward, limp as a rag-doll, right into Shanks' chest. Fumbling to steady the dead-weight against his chest with his arm, Shanks gawks down at the unconscious teen (and the sleeping pair squished between them). He has half a mind to call for a doctor, sleeping drunkards be damned – until he hears the kid's faint snoring in the crook of his neck.

Shanks blinks, the corner of his mouth twitching in an awkward smile. "Eh?"

He – he fell asleep. Just like that. Just like –

" _Pfft–!"_ He buries his grin and quiet laughter into Ace's black hair, ignoring the few tears that escape as he clutches the kid a little tighter, wishing not for the first time that he had both arms.

 _'He really is theirs. God almighty.'_

In the folds of his shirt, Ace snores on.

(Unawares to both of them, Sabo cracks one eye open to share a glance with Luffy. The pair exchange twin smiles, and let themselves drift off again.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Morning arrives far too soon for the likes of many complaining buccaneers, most of which are nursing hangovers and sporting bruises from drunken tussles and/or burns from tripping into fire pits during the night.

Ace _would_ say that he feels sorry for the lot of them, but then he'd be lying. It's their own damned faults for thinking that drinking themselves into oblivion was ever a good idea. Then again, he's spent long enough with this crew to know their habits, unbreakable and constant, and somewhat endearing, and this is one of them; pirates doing what pirates are ought to, and loving/regretting every minute after, every single time. Shank's crew are no different, if not a little louder and rowdier (an impressive feat from a glaringly smaller crew).

He likes them.

It was a great night; hardly any different from the Whitebeard's parties, but with a dash of something that made it all the more special – it was a reunion, a search coming to a satisfying end, and in Luffy's words, a chance for each of his families to get to know each other, give thanks and share stories.

It was a great night. Ace had _fun._

And yet, fear lingers in the back of his mind, joining the hundreds of doubts and infinite questions already taking up space in his throbbing brain.

Ace has never told anyone, save for Sabo. Dadan only knows because Garp told her when he forced a wailing baby into her care, and the bandit family knows through her; Garp knows because he was there when he was born, when his mother died to bring him into the world. Sabo was the only one in the world Ace trusted his secret with, a secret that would have him killed should it be made known to the world. Aside from telling Luffy (though it was only a matter of time,) Sabo's sworn on his life, on their bond, that he's never breathed a word.

But Shanks knows. Knew, just by _looking_ at him.

Ace feels sick.

Shanks is trustworthy enough – being a friend of Luffy's already tell Ace plenty about the captain, despite what their 'upbringing' has done to what innocence they'd had. But for him to so easily figure it out, to look at Ace just once and _know_...then who else might know? Does Whitebeard already know, and is merely humoring Ace? Leading him into a false sense of security, _trust?_ No, no, he can't be. He'd never let the blood of his enemy get off so easily –

" _Whitebeard won't give a damn about any of that, kiddo. That, I can promise you."_

Ace shuts his eyes, takes a breath. Hands clench into loose fists on his lap to keep them from putting his wrist between his teeth out of frustration alone.

 _'Calm down, moron. Breathe.'_

Ace can trust Shanks. It should be odd, should be impossible, but it's true. He'd heard from Yasopp, the sharpshooter of the crew, of what's happened since the brothers were snatched from their home and enslaved. He'd scoured the seas for them the moment he'd heard the news, laid waste to hundreds of slave shops, auction houses and the like in the off-chance they might be there, that _Luffy_ might be there. For _five years._ Hell, he's been working with _Garp_ of all people, a risky thing even without the threat of the World Government finding out.

How can one doubt the integrity, the determination of such a man?

Even so, his words...they're too good to be true. Hard to believe, for a lost boy like Ace.

But he's committed himself to stay with this crew for a little longer. Committed himself to _try,_ to learn and see for himself. It's all he can really do, and pray, in the meantime, that Shanks' words prove true by the end of the journey.

Another breath to soothe his pounding heart, and Ace opens his eyes, casting his gaze about the beach from his perch on a nearby rock by the border of the jungle. The sun rises from the sea and glistens across the sandy beach, urging hungover sailors from their slumber one by one, getting to work as they pack up and prepare to leave. The Red Hair's Log Pose has already set for the next island, so they have to hurry along. They were on their way to East Blue before they'd docked here...

Back to Dawn.

"The offer still stands for you to come with us," Ben Beckman, Shanks' first mate and closest friend, tells him as he comes to stand by his side. A cigarette smoulders lightly between his teeth, his gaze following Ace's as they watch both crews get to work. "Cap'n sure as hell won't mind. We've plenty of room, supplies to spare..."

He looks down at Ace. "Makino would love to see you. Your Granddad and the bandit woman, too."

And yes, he's thought about that. More so once he'd woken up from his...blackout (what the hell?). Garp willingly joining forces with a _pirate_ despite his contempt for criminals in any shape or form...he'd been that desperate, that _scared._ God only knows how Makino must feel. And Dadan...

He wants to see them again. More than anything. He wants to hear Makino's laugh again, would give anything just to hear Dadan scream at them again. But at the same time...

 _We're not ready yet_. _We can't face them. Not like this._

How painful would it be for the only two women in their lives that mattered to see what's become of them in their five years of hell? Granted, they're better than where they'd started thanks to the Whitebeard's patience and...kindness. But they've still got a long way to go before they're ready, before they're _better_. Sabo and Luffy, despite their own yearning, agree with him on that much.

 _We'll go back when we can face them, and make them proud._

With that in mind, he looks up at Ben, a small, sad smile across his face. "Thanks. But...I think we'll stick with the old man a little longer. We told them we would, and it'd be...rude, I guess," he winces awkwardly, and Ben cracks a brief grin, "to jump ship now. But...we'll go back. When we're ready."

Ben just watches him for a moment, eyes searching, wise in ways that differ from Whitebeard, hardened by years at sea. He reminds Ace of Marco; an open book one moment, and then the book slams shut under lock and key, impossible to read. Perhaps that's part of being a first mate. A solid rock for the captain to lean on should he ever need to.

Finally he nods, turning back to the beach and the sun beaming down on them with new vigour. "When you're ready," he parrots, wholly understanding that it leaves Ace nearly breathless with relief.

Still – "You'll pass on a message for us?" Ace asks. Ben's eye slides his way, and Ace offers a barely steady smile. "Tell them we're alright. And we miss them."

This time, Ben grins around the butt of his smoke, the book open once more. Ace can't help but return it, more so when the first mate chuckles and says – "You got it, kid."

Yes. Ace _really_ likes this crew.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Midday arrives, and the crews are ready to go their separate ways.

Most of the Whitebeard's have already half trekked half stumbled back to the west beach to nurse their blazing headaches and prepare the Moby to set off, but the Commanders and the captain himself remain to see the Red Hair's off with Ace, Sabo and Luffy. With the look on a certain phoenix's face, it's apparent who's the most glad to see them go.

All of Shank's crew save for Ben (holding an old box or something tucked snugly under one arm), Yasopp, a grinning rotund man named Lucky Roo whom Ace is _certain_ had fuelled Luffy's love of meat as a child with how many times he's seen the man with a drumstick in his mouth, and Shanks himself, are waving down at the brothers from the ship, bidding them a tearful farewell. A day truly is too short of a reunion after five, torturous years of searching, but they can't loiter. This may be a deserted island, but the Government has eyes everywhere, or so they say; pandemonium ensues if two infamous Emperors are found too close together for too long.

Ace wants to scoff. Paranoid bastards.

Luffy's beaming for all he's worth, waving both arms wildly at the crew tripping over themselves to pile onto the deck and the railing to wave back, some even scaling the rigging and crows nest. Tears spring in the corner of every eye, a few already dripping from Luffy's, but the mile-wide grin never falters. The boy has no doubt in his mind that this won't be the last time they cross paths, and Ace can't wait for the next big reunion, whenever that may be.

Shanks steps forward, eyes on the larger captain standing behind the brothers, a pillar of strength and authority as always. Lips tilt in a lopsided grin. "Thanks for the party, old man," he quips, earning a few indignant mutters from the commanders lined up along the beach – most of them are from Marco, which go ignored by the redhead with gusto. "You'll take care of the brats, won't ya?"

Whitebeard scoffs, but it's not unfriendly nor irritated. "Do you need to ask, brat?" he shoots back. Shanks just shrugs (taking no offense to basically being called a _child_...then again, anyone younger than Whitebeard is a kid in his eyes, probably).

Shanks' grin softens into something far more fond when he turns to Ace and his brothers, and he pulls a surprised Sabo into a hug first, his arm around the blonde's shoulders as he tucks the teen close. "Real good to meet you, Blondie," he says, squeezing a bit when Sabo, hesitantly but surely, returns the embrace. "I'm damn glad you three found each other. God knows Luffy needs a chaperone or two. You keep them in line and take care of yourself, alright?"

Sabo's muffled laughter sounds wet against Shanks' shoulder, but Ace can hear his grin. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, we will. Thanks. And thanks again for everything you've done, back then and, well...the last five years," he says, drawing back and quickly swiping a finger under his scarred eye where a tear managed to escape. Shanks only pats his shoulder twice more before letting him go, stepping back and turning to Ace instead.

Ace's first instinct is to step the hell away – he's only just gotten used to hugs from Thatch and Izo, and that took _weeks,_ and he's yet to even hug them back – but Shanks is having none of it and tugs the freckled teen to his chest anyway, pinning him there with a firm grip. Ace is stiff for a moment, eyes wide. But when nothing happens, when Shanks only holds him a little closer, chin on his shoulder, warmth of a different kind radiating off the older man...

Ace damn near melts.

(He's never been hugged like this before. Not even by Luffy or Sabo. When they hold him, he feels their love through the bond they made all their own, their experiences, their fear and hope even when all seemed hopeless. Ace hardly knows this man, and yet he holds him close like he's known him since birth. It's warm, caring...and Ace feels _safe._ With a complete stranger.

 _'That's new.'_

He kind of likes it.)

Just as with Whitebeard's men, he can't bring himself to return it, but he lets the man squeeze him close, lets his cheek fall on the pirate's left shoulder. He has to strain his ears to hear him whisper – "Take care of yourself. You think about what I said, okay, Sparky?"

Ace has to crack a smile at the stupid nickname. They've all got one (Blondie, Sparky and Anchor, how appropriate – Thatch must _never_ hear them) so he doesn't complain. At least not outwardly. Instead, he nods, and after one last squeeze, Shanks lets him go, grey eyes roaming about his face and lingering a little longer.

Then Shanks winks.

Ace drops his head and groans. Could he _be_ any more obvious?

(He's cool and all, about everything Luffy had described when they were younger. But he can see why people like Marco might find him difficult to deal with. He's a right bastard.)

Finally, he moves on to Luffy. He doesn't go in for a hug, and to Ace's surprise, neither does Luffy. The two stare at each other, a conversation in their eyes and their mirroring smiles that not even Ace can decipher; a shared bond with no need for spoken words. Something Ace has never seen outside of their little trio, their protective bubble. It's strange, but a wonderful sight to behold that Ace is almost awed.

Hard to imagine a boy like Luffy – all gangly arms and legs, a heart still so full of love, hope and innocence he doesn't know what to do with it, dreams too big to possibly contain – befriending one of the most powerful men on the seas with little effort. Then again, it's _Luffy._ Perhaps it's not so hard to imagine after all.

Shanks is the first to break the silence. "Any chance I can persuade you to join my crew?" he asks. Laughter abounds from the ship at his back, and Ben rolls his eyes with a grin that's wholly tolerant but exasperated, like this is a conversation they've had many times before. Knowing what he does of Shanks now, Ace doesn't doubt it.

But Luffy just giggles and shakes his head, black hair flying. He briefly nods to Yasopp, the only one who can interpret Sign for the captain, and raises his arms, his gestures eager but smooth, like he's been rehearsing this.

"He says 'I'm not gonna join your crew,'" Yasopp translates, and then his eyes widen in mild surprise. "'Or Whitebeard's'."

Ace blinks. Sabo stiffens.

It's one thing to be indecisive on the matter of joining or leaving, more so on Ace's side (as far as he knows. Sabo's not as talkative on the subject from his angle.) But for Luffy to straight up announce that he won't be joining the crew that took them in...

The twins share an uneasy glance. This...might not end well.

Nerves spike further when murmurs float among the commanders, and Ace dares a glance over his shoulder. To his relief, there's no anger or sadness in any of them; merely surprise, confusion, and one or two grins that are all too knowing, like they've known this for a while and decided not to share with the class. Jerks.

When he looks up at Whitebeard, the man's expression is unreadable.

At ease, but only a little, Ace turns back to Luffy just in time to see Shanks grin that little bit wider. " _Oh_?" he asks, earning another giggle from the pre-teen as the captain leans forward, hand on his hip. "Is that so? Well then, what do you have in mind, Anchor? Run away and become a hermit somewhere? Start a fishing career without dropping your hammer ass in the sea?"

Luffy shakes his head again and matches Shanks' grin, sharp and resolute and braver than Ace has seen since their last night on Dawn. He looks Shanks in the eye –

"'I won't join anyone's crew,'" Yasopp parrots. "'Because I'm gonna gather my own. I'm gonna surpass you all. And...'"

Yasopp stumbles, breath caught, a slow grin splitting his face in two that _glows._

Ace doesn't need Yasopp to see, to _hear_ from a time that feels so far away _,_ what Luffy says. He feels his grin, hopelessly wide a giddy, a watery laugh escaping before he can help it –

 _'And I'll be King of the Pirates'._

The beach explodes with cheers and hollers that shake the very island from Red Hair's ship, the entire crew beside themselves with joy, pure and full of love they've never found anywhere else since they left home. Beside Ace, Sabo sniffles, tugging down the brim of his hat to hide the start of tears, shoulders shaking with effort to keep them at bay. Ace slings an arm around his twin, pulling him close. His face aches with the force of his grin, but – he can't _stop._

Luffy's dream _survived_. Despite everything, all the pain, the hate, the fear and abuse and constant doubt looming like shadows threatening to swallow them whole.

They took _everything_ from the brothers when they were sold, branded and imprisoned. They took their freedom, their hope, their security, confidence, strength...they took Luffy's _voice,_ and damn near stole his happiness, nearly _broke_ him.

And yet...the one thing they didn't take, _couldn't_ take, their efforts be damned, was the dream of a boy who would – who _will,_ be King.

(It's almost too much, too much for Ace to handle as he holds Sabo closer, tears dripping down the blonde's face now as his shoulders tremble. It's all Ace can do to clench his free hand into a fist at his side and _keep_ it there, keep the tears at bay.

 _Don't cry, don't cry don't cry –)_

A deep chuckle rumbles behind the twins, and they look up (and up) at a grinning Whitebeard, watching as Shanks stares blankly at Luffy, deaf to the boundless cheering all around them and blind to the gawking commanders – all save for Marco, who folds his arms over his chest and grins, pride agleam in crystal blue eyes. "This kid, yoi," he mutters, shaking his head with a smile. Beside him, Thatch is tearing up, and Izo's doing his best to hide his own as he dabs at his cheek with his sleeve. The remaining commanders aren't much better off.

It's like...they're _happy_ they have new competition for the crown of Pirate King. Like they're _proud._

A blink, and Shanks finally comes back to himself, but his eyes never leave Luffy for a moment. Cockiness gone, something fond, soft like like Makino and proud like Garp, takes him over. "So," he says, and if his voice sounds a little thick, no one dares point it out. "You say you'll surpass us, eh? You'll be the next King?"

Luffy nods, grinning like he's never known hurt. Like he's never stopped believing, never stopped dreaming – and now, Ace knows, it's _true._

Then Shanks turns to Ben, cocking his head once, and the First Mate steps forward, handing Shanks the worn, wooden box, already opened though Ace can't see what lies inside from where he stands. Shanks turns back to Luffy, reaching inside the box without looking – "Well, if that's the case," he says idly, "and you really _are_ gonna be our next King..."

He pulls out the prize, and plops it onto Luffy's head. Luffy _freezes._

"...then you're gonna need a crown."

Ace chokes. Sabo gasps behind a hand.

The hat. Luffy's straw hat.

It's back. Shanks found _Luffy's_ _hat_.

But – but how? When? They'd thought for _sure_ they'd left it behind on Dawn, lost it in the struggle, and Luffy had been _devastated –_

"Holy _hell,"_ someone hisses behind them – probably Thatch, probably Haruta, but Ace doesn't look, doesn't care. Shanks _found Luffy's hat,_ and now...

The pirate doesn't move his hand, crouching low to meet Luffy's eyes under the still-too-big brim of the untouched straw. Baby browns are blown wide and wider still, face slack with shock. No tears yet, but Shanks' eyes are already staring to water.

"Take two, Anchor," he says softly, pride etched in every line of his smile. "I know you've still got a long way to go, but I'm damn proud of how far you've already come, kiddo. And I believe in you. Just keep going, keep trying, and you'll get there. No need to rush, either. You take your time, bud, you've earned a little reprieve. In the meantime, take care of yourself, your brothers, get stronger...and don't you go losing my hat again, alright? I still want it back in good condition once you've reached the top."

Luffy doesn't move to reply. Shoulders trembling, teeth grinding to fight back sobs, tears spill down the boy's cheeks like rain, dripping off his chin and disappearing into the sand at his feet. When he lifts his head up, Shanks' hand still firm atop the settled, too-big-hat, his eyes swirl with unbridled happiness behind the torrent of tears and messy sniffles –

And then he beams, nodding – _"Shishishi!"_

That's all it takes. The Red Hairs explode once more, and Shanks sweeps Luffy into one last crushing embrace, one Luffy returns with all his rubbery gusto, straw hat now hanging by the base of his neck by the string. The Whitebeard commanders watch on in silence, matching grins on every face, even Marco's, Whitebeard's chuckle a pleasant rumble, Sabo laughing through his tears where he's glued to Ace's side –

And Ace, not a fear or doubt in his mind, looks at his baby brother tucked against the chest of the man who inspired him to take up the mantel he now dons, and feels nothing but love. Pride.

 _Peace._

When the Red Hairs finally sail away, Luffy sits on Ace's shoulders and waves them off one last time, until they're but a speck in the distance. The straw hat sits snugly on his head, like they've never spent a day apart.

Sabo's still wiping away tears when Luffy hops off his perch on the older teen, and the blonde snatches the giggling, straw-hatted pre-teen into a hug, sweeping him right off his feet in a bridal carry and kissing him firmly on his scarred cheek, earning a delighted squeak from the boy. "I'm so freaking _proud of you,_ little brother!" he cries, swinging them around in the sand. " _So proud!"_

Luffy, laughing loud and free, flings his arms around Sabo's neck and squeezes, laughing harder when Jozu steps in, grabbing both Sabo and Luffy (the former screeching in surprise to everyone's amusement) up in muscular arms to set them on his shoulders and carry them back to the ship. The third commander, known to be stoic for the most part, grins as wide as they do at their delight. Ace shakes his head, cheeks stinging now for how hard he's smiling – how he can't _stop_ smiling – content to walk alongside the other commanders on the beach, watch his little brothers have their fun –

"Alley oop!"

" _Waugh –!"_ only to squawk, flailing a little in mild terror, when a hand bigger than most of him scoops him up and settles him on Whitebeard's left shoulder, Marco happily perched on his right, smirking at Ace's startled face. Said teen can only sit there, clinging tight to the captain's coat for balance (the man is _seriously_ tall, and the sand is soft but _damn_ if he actually wants to fall) as Whitebeard walks leisurely along the beach, long strides easily catching up to the much shorter commanders.

Well. Seems like Ace is getting a ride after all.

Whitebeard chuckles, giving Ace a look from the corner of a golden eye. "Enjoying the view, brat?" he asks. On his other side, Marco closes his eyes, tipping his head back to let the breeze wash over him, wholly at ease.

Ace blinks, takes a quick look around – the sun's rays bouncing off the ocean's gentle wave crashing against the white sand, a trail of pirates in front of them chatting among themselves, Luffy's laughter ringing loud even from so far behind, said baby brother swinging his legs where he's perched on the broad shoulders of a Whitebeard commander...

A straw hat hanging by a chord, swinging gently in the cool breeze around the neck of its owner once more.

Ace smiles, content, fingers gripping the folds of the coat a little tighter. "Yeah," he says at last. "It's pretty great."

(Later that night, Ace lies awake in bed as they finally sail away, remembering all that happened. Remembering the look on Luffy's face as the Red Hairs and the Whitebeard's partied together until they passed out. Remembering Sabo's tears of joy as Shanks returned Luffy's lost treasure, their promise restored. Remembers Shanks' whispered words in the light of a dying fire –

" _...as far as people you can trust, no matter who you are or who your parents were...Whitebeard is your best bet. He hasn't let you down yet, has he? You know you and your brothers are safer with him than anywhere else on the whole damn sea."_

" _Do you really think I'd leave my Anchor, or you, or even Sabo, with my enemy if I thought for a_ second _any of you would be in danger?"_

And then he remembers Whitebeard scooping him up to sit on his shoulder without prompting, a mirthful twinkle in his eye, mischief in his wide, wide smile...

He'd told Shanks he'd think about it a little longer, staying with the Whitebeard's, telling him the truth. The doubts are still there, fear lingering around the corner...

But for once, their voices aren't quite so loud.

Ace smiles to himself, curling up closer to his brothers, Kotatsu purring low and soothing at the foot of the bed. He closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep with ease for the very first time.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

It's the middle of the night when the Transponder Snail rings from his desk.

With no real plans to sleep in the first place, all Garp does is stare at the thing for a moment, wondering who in their right mind would call _him_ at this time of night – higher ups, no doubt, wondering where the hell his report is on Garnet Island's current state, and he'll _get on it, alright? –_ before picking it up, holding the piece to his mouth.

"Yes?" he replies gruffly, "this is Vice Admiral Garp. To whom am I speaking?"

" _Garp. It's me."_

Garp stills, brows furrowing. Red Hair? Already? It's only been a few days since his last report – good god on high, when did he start expecting _reports_ from _Red Haired freaking Shanks_ of all people?

But he hasn't offered his usual, annoying greeting. His tone is all wrong, too similar to that wretched day, and the snail isn't smiling...

Garp's heart sinks, even as he leans forward in his seat. Dread seeps deep into his old bones and settles there like the curse it is. "Red Hair," he says. "What's going on? What happened?"

Silence, thick enough to slice with a knife, fills the cabin. Garp waits with baited breath, pulse thrumming, fighting the urge to yell at the bastard to get it over with already, tell him where he found the bodies, tell him who or what had killed his –

The snail grins, wide and sharp but full of unbridled glee.

" _I found them. Your boys are alive and safe."_

Garp stares at the snail. He blinks once. Twice.

The entire Marine vessel _trembles,_ cadets jolted awake by the force of a mighty roar –

" _ **WHAAAAAAAT?!"**_

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**

 **(now I'm gonna roll over and _sleep XD)_**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N~ HELLOOO! Wow, would you look at that - a quick update!  
**

 **This chapter was ridiculously easy to write compared to the last few! Hell, it's almost perfect save for one or two things, but hey, that's what the next chapter is for - expanding!**

 **Seriously though, the reception the last chapter got was INSANE. I'm _so_ glad you guys liked it, I worked so hard :') This chapter is a little shorter (ha yeah right) but we finally start to focus on our favorite blonde boy! I cannot _wait_ to write the next chapter! CanIHaveAHug might know why XD**

 **A few mentions before we begin:**

 **SarahPrincess - thank you so much! Please, do let me know if there's anything that triggers you so I know to post a warning in later chapters (This one DOES have a violent scene in the beginning, so I'll * for you:)**

 **Jennifer - Hahaha! Garp custody battle might ACTUALLY be a battle XD Thank you so freaking much, dear!**

 **Kippysaurus - My writing is pure word vomit my dear XD Thank you!**

 **Wordlet - ...are you just...SERIOUSLY predicting the future right now? I won't specify because Spoilers, but you've easily predicted about MOST of the next chapter or two! How in the HECK?! XD Thank you so much for your review! I always get so excited reading your thoughts! XD**

 **rynn - writing it was even more heartwrenching XD thanks hon!**

 **SakuraS41 - Gotta love these pirate crews! A bunch of dorks who love 1 Monkey. Thanks for the review!**

 **Andy - Your review gives me SO MUCH LIFE. NEVER STOP BEING AMAZING. Thank you, hon! Hope you like this chapter, too!**

 **SickApothecary - Awww let me hug you! *HUGS***

 **Silexwitch - Blessing?! Aww my dear! Thanks for the review!**

 **Llama - first of all, I love your name, second of all, Luffy ain't Luffy without his dream or his hat XD Thank you!**

 **Sorry I can't get everyone, but I read ALL of your reviews and I love them (and you) so dearly :) Thank you all for your continued support.**

 **With that, on with the chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. WARNING FOR A BIT OF VIOLENCE IN THE FIRST HALF.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 23**

 _Sabo's only seen Mei a handful of times._

 _During every performance, sometimes in passing on the very rare occasions in which Sabo and Luffy are allowed to see Ace in the dressing room before the show starts, before they're dragged back into the ballroom to stand by the armed guards, an utterly shameless taunt to their brother dolled up on a grand stage lest he decide to take another stand._

 _(The whole thing was a bargain made between the King and Ace, not long after the fire...while Sabo was still healing from the burns, too afraid to even touch his face, too hurt to do much but stare at a wall, numb to the core and aching all over, while Luffy whimpered and clung to him like he might disappear._

 _Despite the blatant insubordination, the impressive (expensive) damage done to the entire throne room, and the attempted murder of the Princess herself, they'd come to...an 'agreement', if you could call it even that; Ace will use his newfound 'gifts' to perform for guests henceforth, for the royal family's entertainment, and in return, Ace – and his brothers – stay alive._

 _For the King, it was a gracious act of mercy, a privilege in his eyes. For Ace, it was a no-brainer._

 _Sabo hated him for it, at first. To let these bastards put him on display like some_ prize, _an item to ogle at with greed, with want...with_ lust, _when he's not even fifteen yet_. _It's sick, wrong and Sabo_ hates _that Ace didn't even hesitate. In the end, there was little Sabo could do but accept it, support his brother any way he could from the sidelines._

 _And try not to feel like a hypocrite, knowing he'd willingly do the same if the roles were reversed.)_

 _They'd brought in another slave, a girl no older than them named Mei, who's been doing this since her 'arrival' not too long ago. She was tasked to teach him all she knows, to be his partner on stage during performances; two beauties to behold to the wealthy masses._

 _That was it. That was_ all _she needed to do._

 _Instead, she does much more._

 _She taught Ace how to dance, yes, and thanks to her he does it_ well; _Sabo can't deny that his big brother really is enthralling when he moves, even with his devastated back; when the pair go all out in perfect synchronization, it's like nothing else in the world exists but them and the stage. But once Ace starts passing on what he learns from her onto Sabo and Luffy (a clumsy, strenuous affair with little nourishment or strength left in their withering bodies, but they persevere), it's clear it's not just a_ dance.

 _Granted, all Sabo really knows about fighting is to hit really freaking hard and get the hell out of dodge before the poor bastard wakes up (though he did manage to perfect his pipe wielding if he says so himself). But what Ace shows them every night, once the guards toss them back in their cell for the night until dawn breaks...there's no doubt in Sabo's mind that she's more than the mere 'performer' they've crafted her into, far more than a prize._

 _She's a fighter, a warrior, in doll's clothing._

 _(And the more he watches from afar, the more he learns for himself with Ace, the more he sees and feels. Every flip, kick and hypnotizing twirl – there's grace and beauty, yes, undeniable and flawless in every way. But behind that lies the strength and vehemence of a killer lying dormant, waiting in silence, bound in chains lest it surface unbidden and tear the room's inhabitants to pieces like the wild, rabid animal it is._

 _Death, bearing the face of an angel._

 _All this, from what all perceive as a helpless slave._

 _Something tells Sabo they'll come to regret taking her, regret letting her teach a boy with fire running through his veins. Maybe that's the plan.)_

 _It escalates from there._

 _Ace becomes friends with her. They talk in between practice, before and after shows; they don't share much, for there's not much to share. Ace never tells her about his family save for Sabo and Luffy, but shares plenty of their time robbing nobles in High Town and pillaging junk yards for their home in the trees of a lawless jungle, which Mei apparently enjoys. She never tells him where she came from before she was taken, but is more than happy to share pieces of her life under instruction of who she refers to only as her 'Empress'._

 _And to teach Ace Sign Language...for Luffy._

 _(Luffy cries the first time he pulls off a whole conversation in Sign, a month later. Sabo cries with him, kissing his cheek and smiling into his hair, whispering 'I love you' and 'I'm so proud of you'. Ace bundles them close and just holds them.)_

 _This is where Sabo is confused, however._

 _Mei is a fighter, and a capable one, no doubt. But...why help Ace to such an extent? Why help any of them? Why go through the trouble, why take the risk, to help three raggedy boys who can never hope to repay her kindness at all? She has to know should the guards, or even the servants, ever catch on to her true intentions – hell, if they ever spot the three of them practicing in their cell, they'll all be punished, even killed._

 _So why?_

 _Ace mentions in passing that she just..._ wants _to. There's not much else she has to live for here, so helping them gives her purpose, a reason to live a little longer, a reason to try. And try they do, every day, every night, to get stronger. Whether to stage an eventual escape or merely survive this hell until liberation arrives (like God cares about them that much), that's unclear. But it's working wonders, oddly enough. Little wonders, though – the abuse never ceases, the hunger pangs grow worse and the bruises keep piling on – but wonders all the same._

 _Little wonders, because Luffy can 'speak' again. Because Ace is_ smiling. _Because they're learning, getting their strength back..._

 _All these little wonders, and a stranger, with a heart too big and hopeful, deems them worthy of them._

 _It's a sweet sentiment. But at the same time, it's a stupid,_ stupid _thing to do._

 _You have no rights, no say, as a slave. You have no_ choice _– you either do or you die, and look out only for yourself, (or the ones you can't bear to lose.)_

 _Sabo learns this, and learns it quickly._

 _He's thirteen (he thinks) when he sees it for the first time._

 _He's in the kitchen, just after the dinner rush, scrubbing the tiled floor under the polished table in the center of the wide room, biting his lips to keep from salivating at the remnant aroma of food lingering in the air. He'd always hated the food in High Town, barely able to stomach a slice of toast at breakfast when he lived with Outlook (he_ **refuses** _to call that waste of flesh his father), but he'd give_ anything _for whatever they'd served the royal family tonight, whether it tastes good or not. Everything tastes great when you're starving._

 _He's not alone; an older man and a petite young woman with mangled hair woven into a braid over her shoulder, are hastily scrubbing the counter-tops and the piles of dishes and cutlery left pooling in the overflowing sink. It's still so warm in the room, and sweat pours down their foreheads as they work, hurrying before the guards come to find any excuse to beat them, be it their pace or the messes they've yet to attend to._

 _(Good thing Sabo picked the floor first; harder for the guards to reach a scrawny teen under a table.)_

 _He also gets a good view of the room under here, and sees the moment the old man stops mid-scrub, eyes drawn to something on the counter not far to the right of him. A single slice of bread, barely bigger than Sabo's palm, left to grow stale in the open air, left foolishly to go to waste._

 _Sabo had seen it on their way in. He'd ignored it, knowing better than to pilfer even a crumb of anything in here for himself. Ace is pushing his own luck as it is, sneaking whatever morsels he can; he won't endanger himself or his brothers just to temporarily satisfy his own hunger._

 _The old man, though, doesn't share the sentiment, and after a quick look around for prying eyes, listening for any voices beyond the doorway, he drops his rag and snatches the slice from the cutting-board. It's halfway to his mouth when he pauses a second time. Slowly, he looks over his shoulder at the young woman by the sink. She's younger than him by far, yet somehow looks weaker, frail and thin and weary to the marrow of her bones even as she works tirelessly, loose-fitting shirt and torn overalls wet with soapy water and leftovers she hasn't dared to touch. The old man watches her a moment longer, looks back down at the morsel in his hands._

 _Sabo watches him debate with himself, watches him smile slow and sad but unrepentant as he turns and taps the woman on the shoulder. She jolts a little, startled, and whirls on him. His smile, warm and wide, grows as he offers the slice to her. She stares at him, then the slice, eyes welling up with tears as she lifts a sopping, trembling hand to take it from him._

 _Wordlessly, she breaks it in half, and offers a piece to him._

 _Sabo watches on in wonder as the pair smile at each other, tears dripping down gaunt faces, and nibble on their dismal meal; a kindness shared in the face of everything but. A smile touches the boys' lips._

 _It falls just as quickly when a guard storms into the kitchen._

 _(Had he been paying attention, Sabo might've seen the guard looming just behind the door, watching everything play out like a waiting viper stalking its next victim. He might've even been able to warn them of the danger before it was too late.)_

" _You! Wretched little thieves!" the guard bellows. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" The woman and the old man spin on their heels, startled cries ripping from their throats. Heart pounding, Sabo curls up as small as he can under the table, daring to peek through trembling fingers._

 _The old man immediately puts himself between the furious guard and the crying woman, withered arms spread wide. "P-Please, I beg of you," he cries, "I-It was my fault, I took the bread and gave it to her. Spare her life, please!"_

 _The guard sneers at them both over the bridge of his nose. The old man stares back. The young woman hiccups through her tears. Sabo tries to soften his rapid breathing, plead his pounding heart to be_ quiet _before it beats right out of his chest._

 _Then the guard grins. Sabo's gut churns at the sight. "Very well, then," he says, feigning nonchalance. "I suppose I can be merciful, just this once."_

 ***** _Hope blooms in the eyes of the frightened slaves. Sabo knows better._

 _He knows what's going to happen even before the guard lashes out and snags the old man by the the throat, dragging him out into the hallway, and it's all the boy can do to curl up even more, shut his eyes and plug his fingers in his fingers in his ears as the guard starts to beat him._

 _It's no good; he can hear every strike of a sheathed sword against flesh and bone, hear the woman shriek and plead and cry, hear the old man's pained wails – it's all Sabo can do to hold back bile, rocking in place, tears leaking down his face, terror seizing him._

 _Then there's silence._

 _Sabo unplugs his ears, opens his eyes, and slowly looks over his shoulder. The guard is back, standing in the doorway. His sheath his soaked with blood. Sabo can't hear or see the old man at all. The woman sobs silently into her hands, head touching the cold tiles. By her knees, breadcrumbs litter about her like snowflakes._

 _Sabo can't help it; he gasps, a choked, soft sound._

'Oh god.'

 _Of course, it attracts the attention of the guard. He spins on his heel, leans down and spots the teen curled up under the table. His face twists into another hateful sneer. "Hey, you!" He reaches for Sabo and snags the boy by the arm, dragging him from his shelter. Sabo cries out, in pain and unbridled terror. Behind him, the woman gasps in horror. "What're you doing, huh? Trying to hide, eh? Sneak off?"_

 _There's splashes of blood on the guard's squared face. It's painted all over his sheath, filling the air with its stench, roiling Sabo's stomach. The guard's going to kill him, too, gonna beat him like he beat that innocent old man, make him leave Ace and Luffy all alone, break them with his death, and then Ace will keep hurting himself, Luffy won't_ ever _sign again and then they'll_ _ **die**_ _–_

 _It's too much._

 _Trembling all over, Sabo all but slams his head down on the tiles, bowing low as he can that he might disappear into the very earth. "I-I'm sorry," he whimpers. "I'm sorry. I-I wasn't hiding sir, I-I-I was cleaning the floor, I swear I was! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, don't kill me, I'll clean everything! I promise I'll be good. Please, let me live!"_

 _(Pathetic. Weak. Useless. That's what's become of him. That's what he's stooped to, just to stay alive. To protect his brothers._

 _It never used to be that way. Back when he could fight his way out of anything. Before he'd been branded, burned, forced to sit back and watch his brothers be put on display, dragged around on leashes like animals...)_

 _Sabo can feel the guard's eyes on him, spearing the back his head with glaring daggers. He doesn't move an inch, doesn't look up, doesn't even breathe._

 _Finally, an exasperated huff, and a hand digging into his skull as he's pulled to his feet by the hair and shoved backwards, stumbling into the woman who steadies him by the shoulders with shaking, wet hands. "Quit your blubbering, urchin," the guard says, shouldering his bloodied sheath. His smirk is cold and ruthless, devoid of much humanity. "I've had my fun for the day."_

 _They're ordered to keep cleaning after that, true to his word in granting them mercy. They do so in silence, drying their tears. The tension never leaves, not even when the guard finally walks out the door. The silence hangs thick and heavy over their heads. The stench of blood and death is unbearable, but Sabo swallows the bile and soldiers on._

 _He doesn't look out into the hall._

 _He doesn't cry or scream when they finally leave the kitchen and find what's left of the old man – his blood paints a dark, horrifying daub on the carpeted floor, along some of the walls. Someone must've already carried the body away to dispose of it. It's only a matter of time before the blood is scrubbed away, too, leaving nothing behind of what was once a human life._

 _(Slaves aren't buried, here. They're either burned or tossed somewhere Sabo doesn't want to think about, outside the castle grounds.)_ *****

 _He doesn't cry when he's led back to his cell, the barred door slamming behind him, ringing in his ears. Luffy and Ace aren't back yet, so he just stumbles to their corner, hugs his knees to his chest and stares at the opposite wall, blank and lifeless._

 _It feels like hours later when a thought finally occurs to him, suddenly, and leaves him reeling._

'Why didn't I do anything?'

 _The old man had the chance to eat the slice whole, satiate his own hunger. Instead, he chose to share. He could've shifted the blame onto the woman, save himself and let her take the fall. Instead, he stood in front of her,_ shielded _her, and died a gruesome, painful death for it._

 _Sabo hid under a table,_ covered his ears, _and then begged for his life._

 _He could've done something. He_ should've _done something. What the old man did was stupid, yes, practically suicidal, but it was done from the goodness of his heart, for the sake of a total stranger. He didn't deserve to die. And yet Sabo stood by like a coward, and just_ **let** _him die!_

 _(He understands, now, why Mei does what she does; in a place where it's every man for himself, light can still shine in the darkness with one kind deed. The old man was no different._

 _And that's what sets Sabo apart from them both. They're brave people, who strive to do good despite the hatred and death all around them. One has already died for it. Only time will tell how long until it's Mei's turn, though he prays for her._

 _Sabo isn't like them. He's a coward, a weakling who looks out for his own hide, looking out only for what he has instead of reaching out, no matter the risk, to do good and_ **help** –)

" _Bo?"_

 _His head shoots up, startled. Wide, frightened eyes meet worried silver. Ace crouches in front of him, one hand half reaching for Sabo's quivering shoulder. Sabo blinks. When did Ace get here? How long has_ _he been here, watching the blond stare at nothing, frozen in place like a pillar of salt?_

 _How long_ has _Sabo been sitting here, trapped in his own head...?_

 _Ace's brows furrow, and he shuffles closer, their knees touching. "Sabo," he whispers, his hand finally reaching all the way to gently cup Sabo's cheek instead. His rough thumb gently brushes the tender scar marring pale flesh. It doesn't hurt, not anymore. "What happened? You're freezing, Bo, are you okay –?"_

" _I'm sorry."_

 _Ace blinks, rears back a little, but his hand stays where it is. "What? What're you sorry for –?"_

" _I'm sorry. I'm sorry."_

 _Tears stream down Sabo's face now, the words falling from his lips on repeat like a scratched record._

" _I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm_ sorry –!"

 _He can't stop it, can't stop the sobs as they tumble out of him, and then he's curling up again, hands grasping at Ace's tattered shirt desperately like a drowning man. Ace catches him in his arms before he hits the floor and pulls him to his chest in an instant, arms wrapped tight around Sabo like a vice. He rocks them back and forth like a mother would her child, Sabo sobbing helplessly into Ace's shoulder._

 _(Distantly, he's almost glad Luffy's not here. He doesn't need to see Sabo break.)_

" _I'm sorry," he whimpers again, hiding his face in the crook of Ace's neck. He's still so warm, even without his devil fruit. "I'm sorry, Ace, I'm sorry –"_

" _Shh, Sabo, it's okay," Ace whispers, pressing a quick but firm kiss into Sabo's hair, arms tightening around him. "Don't be sorry. Don't_ ever _be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. It's okay. You're okay. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. It's alright."_

'No it's not,' _he wants to scream._ 'It's not alright. I let a good man die. I sat there and listened to him get beaten to death for sharing a piece of bread. I could've _helped,_ I _should've_ helped. But I'm a coward, a _dog_ with its head bowed and tail between its legs _,_ no better than them, nothing like you or Mei. I'm _useless!'_

 _But the words remain lodged in his heart, in his brain, left to fester. Instead, he burrows deep into his brothers' embrace, tears falling like rain –_

" _I'm sorry..."_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Sabo's always loved being up high.

Ever since he was little, he's loved the feeling of being above everything, everyone, watching the world roll by beneath him from a bird's eye view, or close to it as he can with no wings to speak of. Maybe it's from growing up on the highest floor in Outlook's home, looking over High Town and its inhabitants crawling about like ants, or when he ran off to live in the tallest tree he could scramble up without slipping and falling to his death (though the sense of peril certainly added a bit of charm to the whole thing, being up so high). Or later still, when the three of them built their own home little in the trees, raised their flag to proudly wave above all of Dawn Island.

(He wonders, sometimes, if that raggedy little tree-house is still there after all these years. If their flag still proudly waves in the breeze, though its 'ship' remains barren.)

Whatever the case, Sabo loves heights. Loves the warm breeze brushing through his curls, rays of afternoon sunshine beaming down on his face, the salt of the sea filling his nostrils, the soft chatter and commotion on the deck a good few feet below him as the crew carries along their daily routine. He can see why Marco likes to come up here, too, on occasion – well, he'll usually take to the crows nest ( _ha,_ bird pun), while Sabo's found the long, sturdy ropes of the rigging a better spot to perch, dangerous though it is. Namur's already had to untangle him twice when he got too excited the first time, much to the amusement of everyone else, Whitebeard included once word got to him. No one will let him live it down, least of all Ace.

But yes, he can certainly see the appeal. All but the lower decks are beheld to him up here – hell, he's on top of the world.

On the deck, he can hear Thatch scolding Haruta and Ace again, wooden spoon waving vehemently as he cusses them out while they point and laugh from a safe distance; must've raided the kitchens again, and it's only just gone lunch. They'll surely pay for that later, if Thatch gets his way. Luffy's off with Kotatsu and Stefan, trying his best to make them get along despite the big cat's contempt for the slobbering canine who just wants to play. Rakuyo's doing his best to help, but only gets a face full of fur for his troubles when Kotatsu decides he's had enough, paws the commander in the face and then saunters away, back to the safety of their cabin. Luffy, of course, laughs himself silly while Rakuyo splutters and coughs up lynx hair, cussing the cat out where he's sprawled on the deck.

Sabo shakes his head and chuckles at the sight, not so unusual anymore even among infamous, 'bloodthirsty' pirates.

His breath hitches, just a little, at the sight of the straw hat swinging on the chord around Luffy's neck.

It's been two days, and it's all still so unreal to see Luffy with his treasure, reunited after half a decade. It suits him, for all that it doesn't yet _fit_ on his tiny head, and Luffy _glows,_ now, brighter than ever. Almost as if the hat alone sends a rippling charge through the boy's rubber body, filling him with new life and vigor that even the Whitebeard's can't keep up with.

(It was a chore getting him to sleep that night, the pre-teen too busy clutching the hat and giggling to himself to bother joining Ace and Sabo in bed; it'd taken the promise of goading Thatch into making his famous brownies for breakfast (which he did) to get the little idiot to finally settle down, and even then, he never once released the hat from the rubbery grip pinning it to his chest, the smile never fading even as he drifted off to sleep between his older brothers.)

But by far the greatest change in the last two days, one they've all noticed, is how _vocal_ Luffy is.

He doesn't speak – god only knows when that'll happen, if at all, for they hope that it's soon – but he laughs louder, brighter and freer than ever before; he'll grunt and huff and snicker – just make _noises,_ when about a month ago he was almost totally silent, using only his face and gestures to express himself. He even _hums_ now, under his breath or as loud as he likes, little tunes from their childhood or a mismatch of tone-deaf joy.

It's obviously not just the hat – it's the meaning behind the hat, the promise rekindled between a pirate legend and a future King, and a vow to get better, stronger, that's triggered this wonderful change.

He's already come so far since their escape. And thanks to Shanks, it won't be long, Sabo feels (hopes, _prays)_ until Luffy finally musters the courage to speak. Sabo wonders what his first words will be. (Please, don't let it be 'meat' or some swears he's picked up from this crew.)

Ace has changed, too, in little ways.

His older brother has yet to know this, but Sabo heard the whispered exchange between him and the red-haired captain. Not all of it, but more than enough – he'd almost blown his cover at one point, nearly leapt up and _demanded_ to know how the hell he knew of Ace's parentage, though Ace beat him to it. But every moment after damn near had him _beaming,_ because in the span of five minutes, Shanks had seamlessly confirmed everything Sabo had already hoped, believed, since this wonderful disaster of a crew took them in and cared for them.

Whitebeard is a good man. He _cares_ about them, truly and unconditionally, regardless of their blood, their past, their flaws or scars or brands.

Whether or not Ace can believe that yet is unclear, but it's certainly done wonders for his attitude; not just around Whitebeard (and their _stupid_ so-called 'sparring' sessions in which Ace goes for a swim nearly _every freaking day_ ) but around the rest of the crew. He's opening up a little, doing the odd chore here and there alongside division members without prompting – "It's about time I got off my ass and did some heavy lifting around here," he'd said to Vista when approached by the curious commander, wondering why (and _how)_ Ace was suddenly bearing the weight of beer barrels on his shoulders rather than leaving it to the crew. The young man's answer brought awed and warm smiles to every face nearby, and they carried right along thereafter, Ace not far behind.

He even _smiles_ more; no longer quite so hesitant, but wide and full of mirth or mischief, the latter more so when he's around Haruta or Thatch and their endeavors. Like he's already starting to find a place among them, even if he doesn't realize it yet.

Truly, his brothers have grown stronger, far beyond what any of them had hoped or dreamed of. Sabo is so, so _proud_ of them.

But then that begs the question. What _about_ Sabo? What's he done so far that's warranted praise? Where has he grown, if at all?

Sure, he apologizes less and less, even when every fiber of him screams to do so at the slightest thing. He holds his head up higher, unafraid to ask questions, studies and trains as hard as his brothers side-by-side with the commanders, doesn't cower or even bow anymore. All in all, on paper, it certainly looks like excellent progress in such little time. He should be proud of himself.

And yet...with every step forward, there's always a step back.

He still 'switches' from time to time – Luffy will have a nightmare that has him wake up whimpering, and something instantly _clicks_ in Sabo's brain like a light switch that leaves him craving the blood of whoever _dared_ to hurt his baby brother, until he realizes it's only a nightmare. Other times – only recently, in fact, and the still vivid memory of blood drenching his coat, painting the snow red, sends shivers down his spine – he'll succumb to what he's come to rely on for the last five years. What all slaves rely on, cling to for dear life, just to survive.

To bow their heads and plead for mercy, to _apologize._

Can you really call _that_ progress? Can you call _that_ healing, compared to how far his brothers have come?

Will he _ever_ move on, get better, stronger, like them? And if he does, where will he go from there?

Luffy's well on his way once more to the throne of Pirate King, all while sailing aboard the very ship of the former King's rival. Ace is finding his niche among the Whitebeard's despite his fears, his past and the blood in his veins that (he thinks) might be his undoing if the captain ever finds out.

In the meantime, Sabo...Sabo just drifts, like a lifeboat with no paddle or sail, aimless and lost in the vast and lonely sea.

He thought he'd had everything figured out, years ago. Running away from home at five, partnering with another raggedy boy his age to gather enough treasure to buy their own ship and sail the seas as pirates, no boundaries, no responsibility, no ties to anyone (but each other.) Luffy cam along, and plans were altered just a little so the rubber child could fit right in with them. The dream hadn't changed, no even after they swore to brotherhood or moved out of Dadan's to build their first home for themselves. If anything, the dream only became more _real._

Then Outlook found him. Forced him to come back home, to keep his brothers alive.

(His first act of submission.)

But Sabo went _back,_ screw the risks – they were his brothers, his real family no matter the bloodless ties, and damn him to hell and back if Outlook was going to cage him again, keep him away from the one good thing that came out of this wretched kingdom.

(His first big mistake.)

They were caught, ambushed in the very jungles they'd once called home, safety. Dragged aboard a ship by slavers hired by his _own father._ They were sold, branded with scalding irons – Sabo can still feel it, sometimes, phantom pains of the worst kind – and locked away in the bowels of a castle. They were far from home, from everything and everyone they'd ever known and loved.

Their plans and dreams of freedom were even farther, unreachable, unattainable.

Impossible.

Since then, Sabo's aspirations of sailing the world as a pirate, writing a book of all his finds and wonderful adventures, have all but dwindled into a abysmal candlelight where a fierce fire once burned like a furnace. He's far too cowed, now, to command any vessel or think much for himself without constant _doubt,_ can barely stick up for himself without...'switching', from one extreme to the other without warning, without control.

(He knows at least one of the commanders might help him with that. But at this rate, he's too afraid to ask. Too afraid to admit aloud that he might be mad. That he's _broken._ )

Growling under his breath, Sabo takes off his hat and rakes a frustrated hand through his hair. He's helpless, really. Doesn't know what the hell he's doing (for all that he acts otherwise, for the sake of his brothers.)

They've only a short time left before they reach Sabaody. They have to chose, then, what they want to do; to stay or to go. Whitebeard won't try to push them either way, but Sabo _refuses_ to take advantage of the captain's kindness any more than he already has. He has to find a new calling, like Ace and Luffy, but independent from them; much as he loves them with all his heart and soul, he can't cling to to them forever, like Luffy won't if he wants to become the next king.

But _what?_ What can Sabo possibly do? What can give him new purpose, the drive he needs to pick himself up and break the last few chains binding him to the past that continues to haunt them in and out of their dreams, to _fix him_ –?

Sabo groans, massaging his throbbing temples. "Need to get out of my head," he mutters.

When he raises his head, the sky is a vast blanket of baby pink fading into endless blue, already signalling the arrival of dusk. How long has he been sat up here, his head in the clouds and his mind a mess of everything out of his reach?

Well, time to get his head out of said clouds and back on solid ground. Perhaps it's high time he picked someone else's brain, look at things from a different angle.

(Scary though the thought is; to share his...rather unique dilemma with anyone but his brothers. They don't need to know. Why burden them when they're doing so well?

They have their own demons to tackle. Sabo just has to support them, love them. That's all he needs to do, and he's happy to do it. They'll think otherwise, though, so he'll keep his mouth shut. Call him a hypocrite all you please, but it's a sacrifice he's willing to make.)

Still, better than brooding all by himself. Best to let it out, get it over with at long last, before it can fester any more than he's already let it. Before it gets worse.

With that, Sabo carefully climbs back down to the deck – he's not _quite_ brave enough to jump it, but _one day,_ he swears – and sets a determined course for the Whitebeard's cabin.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

When he reaches the captain's quarters, his fist raised and ready to knock on the door, he damn near turns tail to run for it.

Sabo gulps, staring at the door, sweat trickling down his brow. It's the first time he's been back here since they snuck in on their first night aboard...which soon led to them being stuffed in Whitebeard's pillowcase and hefted about like a sack of potatoes. It was terrifying then, but now Sabo looks back on it and grins; it _was_ pretty funny, if not a little embarrassing.

Still, this is...different, compared to going up to the man's chair and sitting with him on the deck in full view of loitering crew-mates and commanders alike. This is Whitebeard's private room, where he comes to be alone with his _own_ thoughts, not to be pestered by a fifteen-year-old and _his_ issues, petty as they are. Maybe he should just go. No, he should _definitely_ go. Whitebeard has bigger things to worry about, a teenagers' existential crisis isn't worth his time –

"How long are you going to stand out there and keep me waiting, boy?"

Sabo doesn't scream. He _doesn't._ He does, however, squeak and jump in surprise at the deep rumble behind the door, amused though it sounds. Whitebeard knows he's here?! _How?!_

(Must be those 'Dad' senses Thatch told them about that one time. Sabo hadn't believed him then, but now he's actually kind of scared. Scared, and awed. 'Dad senses' are pretty cool.)

Regardless, Sabo inhales deeply once, steeling himself – he can do this, he can do this, he _has_ to – and pushes the door open.

He pokes his head inside, looking around once – the room's hardly changed at all since he's last been in it. But with Whitebeard sitting on the bed, a thick book in the other and a kind smile on his wrinkled features, Sabo can't help but feel at ease as he steps in proper, shutting the door carefully behind him. The room somehow feels _warmer,_ truly lived-in, with the captain so at home in it. Domestic, homey, for what the world sees as a merciless criminal.

"Hello, Sabo," the old man says, setting the book aside after dog-earring the page. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Something you need, lad?"

Shuffling a little in place, Sabo takes off his hat and fiddles with it between his hands. A mantra rings loud in his ears – _don't chicken out don't chicken out you can do this Sabo come on –_ and he takes a steady breath. "I, uhm...I wanted – I mean...I'd like to talk to you about s-something, if that's alright?" he stumbles, but hey, he said it. Certainly counts for something, right?

Apparently it does, for Whitebeard's amber eyes soften incredibly as he shifts on the massive bed, boots thumping solidly on the floorboards. "Of course, my boy. I'm all ears. Come sit by me; the floor is no place to pick one's brain," he says, patting the empty space on his left. Sabo blinks once, twice, and musters the nerve to hop up onto the blessedly soft mattress to sit beside the giant of a man – and he could almost fall asleep here and now, the bed is so _soft._ He can't help but sigh, instantly relaxed.

Whitebeard's chuckle quickly brings him back to the present with a healthy blush, and he ducks his head in a vain attempt to hide it. Hands folded on his lap, Whitebeard regards him. "So, what's on your mind, Sabo?" he asks. "No one giving you trouble, are they?"

"No, no it's not that. It's..." Sabo hesitates again, stares at the hat on his lap. His fingers tighten around the brim, crinkling the perfect material. He stares at himself in the perfect lenses of the goggles, stares at the angry scar marring tanned flesh, still so bright and evident after four years.

 _Just say it._

Sabo bites his lip. Beside him, Whitebeard waits.

 _Just say it!_

"...have you...have you ever felt trapped?" he asks at last. "Not _physically,_ but...in your own head? Like there's so much going on in there that you can't get out no matter how hard you try?"

 _There. I said it._

Silence. Sabo dares to glance up at the veteran pirate captain. His ancient gaze is drawn elsewhere, eyes narrowed and pondering as he strokes his chin. Sabo waits, prays (for what, he has no idea).

Eventually – "I have, actually," Whitebeard says. "Once or twice back in my rookie days. I was torn on what I should do with the rest of my life, what course I should set, and whether the risks to chase my dream would be worth it. Such thoughts fade when you reach my age, though. When you've lived long enough to see what you once worked yourself up over in the past isn't quite as bad as you thought." He looks down at Sabo again, and though the soft smile on his face is benign and warm as always, the glow in his eyes is curious. "Though I don't think that's quite the answer you're looking for, is it?"

Sabo has to admit, that answer alone does wonders – knowing that certain thoughts will pass and fade with time is a _huge_ relief. But – "No," Sabo admits. "Not quite, but it's close."

Whitebeard cocks his head to one side. "Care to explain, my boy?"

Sabo swallows once, eyes glued to his lap, takes another breath, and does just that.

"I just...since we escaped that hell hole and sailed away with this crew, I've been thinking. About everything, where we're going now that we're free, what we're working towards. Ace and Luffy are doing amazing so far, but me? What's out there to give _my_ life meaning now that I have a say in the matter? I...I feel like I'm getting left behind, and I know I've gotta catch up. But...I've been stuck in this – this weird state of indecision for weeks now, stuck in this back and forth between being brave and going out there, giving everything I've got, and then...well, you've seen it. And I can't control it. For the first time ever I don't know what I want, I don't know what to _do._ "

He sighs, rough and hard, pushing a had through his hair and mussing up the curls further. "I _hate_ it. I'm _tired_ of feeling like this, feeling _weak_ and helpless and confused _all the time_."

"What exactly makes you feel weak and helpless, Sabo?" Whitebeard asks, patient as anything.

Sabo's grateful for it, but a spark of anger ignites in his chest all the same – how can this captain not _know,_ when he's seen them all at their absolute lowest?

The teen scoffs despite himself, looking up at the captain with a lopsided smile that doesn't reach his eyes at all. "You remember how I was when we met," he says dryly, "how I dragged my brothers back and _begged_ on the floor like a dog? How often I apologized – and still do – like I'll die if I don't? You wouldn't call that weakness?" A mirthless chuckle escapes him then as he shakes his head; it sounds half mad in his ears. "It's _pathetic._ And it's – it's _selfish,_ how ready I am, how low I'm willing to go to save my own ass."

Whitebeard's gaze is unreadable, but it's heavy. "You may feel that way," he says slowly, "and I admit, begging for your own sake is something only cowards do when it's clear they've bitten off more than they can chew. But your situation was inconceivably difficult, Sabo, something no child should ever be forced to endure. You had no choice but to follow orders, do what you could if it meant you could live to see another day. And it saved you and your brothers. I would hardly call that selfish or pathetic."

His words are spoken with patience, kindness, a semblance of understanding, having lived as long as he has, having seen the best and worst of this world. But all it does it add more fuel to the growing fire in the teen's gut until he's gritting his teeth, eyes flashing –

 _He remembers an old man sharing a morsel of bread with another starving young woman with mangled braids. Remembers watching from under a table as he begged for_ her _life, pleaded with the maddened guard to spare_ her, _and paid the ultimate price...all while Sabo stood idly by._

"What about other people, then?" Sabo snaps before he can check himself – in the presence of the _strongest man in the world –_ but now that he's started he can't stop. The words come pouring out like water from a dam, and a part of him grins like the mad man he is, screeching _'it's about damn time'._

"I watched _so many_ people suffer and die back in that horrible place. I kept my head down and looked the other way, looked out for myself and my brothers while others...at least _tired,_ even if it got them killed!" he cries, balling his fists until they tremble with rage on his lap, the fire burning hotter and hotter. "Wouldn't you call _that_ selfish?! Doesn't that make me just as bad as the people who bought us, _used_ us –?!"

"No. It doesn't."

The firm, unyielding rumble of Whitebeard's voice silences Sabo in an instant. Lips snap shut, eyes wide, and the fire dwindles and dies. He looks up, and the old pirate's gaze is hard, but not scolding nor is it threatening.

(In fact, unless it's a trick of the flickering lamplight, there's a hint of _pain_ in the amber in his eyes.)

"Valuing the life of your loved ones over strangers isn't selfish, Sabo," the captain says; he's softened his voice, and Sabo relaxes, but only a little. "It most certainly does _not_ make you worse, or anywhere _close_ to the bastards that took you, either. It makes you _human,_ my boy. An imperfect human just like me, your brothers and everyone else in this cold bitch of a world we live in. And you're _young,_ Sabo; no one can possibly blame you for you did or didn't do. I certainly won't. Anyone who does can take it up with me," he adds with a wicked grin that promises nothing short of retribution for those that might dare to cross him.

Or in this case, those that dare cross Sabo, or his brothers.

Whitebeard has proven time and time again how far he'll go for three stowaways, whom he had every right and reason to toss overboard, dust his shoulders off and forget they even existed. He's proven over and over how much he _cares,_ whether they don his mark or not. It still rattles Sabo's soul like nothing ever has – not since Ace called him 'little brother', or when Luffy told him 'I love you', for the first time.

And Sabo _wants_ to believe, wants to look this legendary captain in the eye and say 'Thank you, I believe you, nothing was my fault.' But he _can't._ He's not convinced in the least, his aching heart and pounding brain less than appeased.

He wonders if he ever will be. If he'll ever be at peace with their past, if he'll ever be able to let it go.

He jumps a little when a massive hand bigger than most of him settles on his back, the touch warm and gentle when is should be anything but. He looks up to meet Whitebeard's compassionate eyes watching him, and the old man smiles. "Listen to me, Sabo," he says. "I know how hard it is to let go of the past, to move on from the pain your unjustly suffered for so long. But you cannot allow the past, these poisonous thoughts, to weigh you down, or in this case, trap you inside your own head. You can't change what's happened, no matter how hard you wish otherwise..."

Something in Sabo's heart clenches – he knows this, of course he does, but it's no less painful to hear. Like the final nail banging into the coffin, loud and final. He looks down again, eyes squeezed shut to ward off the start of tears. "I know," he croaks. "It's just –"

A single giant finger gently tips Sabo's chin upwards, the teen blinking in surprise as he meets Whitebeard's eyes once more. "You can't change the past," he repeats, "but you _can_ make a difference in the present. You can do something _now,_ with the strength and skills and the will you've gained. If that means helping those in need where you couldn't before – if that's what you want to do, what you feel in your heart is right – then by all means go for it. Chase after it and don't give in, hold your head up high and let nothing stand in your way again."

The finger under Sabo's chin falls away, the gentle hold on his back tightening ever so slightly. "You're not weak or helpless, Sabo. Far from it, in fact; you're one of the strongest brats I've had the pleasure to meet in all my years. Considering my age, that's really something."

Sabo chuckles wetly, eyes stinging dangerously. Whitebeard grins back.

"You're confused now, indecisive, and that's alright. There's no rush simply because your brothers are adjusting a little faster than you; it's not a race. Everyone recovers differently. And when the time comes when you see and feel which course is right for you, I know you'll be strong enough to stick to it, no matter the squalls. And know that if you stumble or struggle, you'll have myself, your brothers, and my sons and daughters with you to help you along the way. Do you understand, my boy?"

Sabo can't help it, though he tries and tries.

Tears drip freely down his face, and he ducks his head to cover his mouth with a shaking hand, shoulders trembling as he fights the sobs threatening to tear his throat a new one. The hand on his back pats him once, twice, and stays there; a steady weight, a comforting presence that Sabo will _never_ take for granted.

"T-Thank – Thank you," Sabo croaks a moment later, drawing a shaking breath as he wipes the tears away, scrubbing them off with the back of his hands.

The giant hand pats him once more, and another chuckle rumbles from Whitebeard's scarred chest. "You're welcome, my boy. I'm no therapist, but I'm a damn good listener if I do say so myself." Then he smirks, an impish thing that Sabo's grown used to, and the man leans down – "Much better at giving advice than Rakuyo as well, I might add," he says, and Sabo raises a brow, confused but already smiling. Whitebeard nudges him. "Take it from me, boy, and never listen to a damn thing that idiot says. He convinced Curiel to get certain...assets of a woman he was interested in tattooed on his back while he was a few sheets to the wind. He'll never take off his shirt in public again."

That startles a watery laugh out of Sabo, which quickly turns into mirthful gales as he clutches his aching gut, falling backwards onto the mattress, the tears in his eyes now of joy than bone-deep relief. Whitebeard's booming laughter soon follows, and the pair can't stop laughing for a good two minutes – it's not even that funny, but they laugh anyway.

It's therapeutic, if a little painful – "My ribs!" Sabo wheezes, and Whitebeard laughs harder – but it's the best he's felt all day. And though the questions and doubts still linger, they're settled, for now.

Whitebeard told him exactly what he needed to hear.

(It's no wonder he's loved and admired by this crew. Perhaps in another life not riddled by slavery and heartache and longing for a different purpose, Sabo might have joined. Alas, that's not where he feels his course is set, not anymore. He'll find his new calling soon enough.)

They eventually settle down enough that Sabo can sit up, a few stray giggles escaping as he scrubs his face a second time. He looks up at a grinning Whitebeard again, and returns the grin just as brightly. "Thank you, Whitebeard," he says again. "What you said...it helps, I think. Yeah, it does. I feel...better, I guess."

It's Whitebeard's turn to raise a brow, a wholly teasing gesture. "You guess?"

Sabo shrugs, a careless thing. "Sorta. I will be, though. But, um...if you don't mind, can we keep this just between us? I don't really want Ace or Luffy to know. I mean, I'll tell them, I promise I will! It's just –"

"In your own time," Whitebeard finishes for him, nodding. "I understand, Sabo."

Then Sabo smiles, a bright, childlike thing that's rare for him except around Luffy, and he presses a finger to his lips. "Our little secret?" he quips, fondly recalling that time (it feels so long ago) back in the infirmary; a silly secret kept between a veteran pirate and a bedridden teen. It barely lasted a day, but the warmth that spread through Sabo in that moment was unparalleled.

Whitebeard blinks once, but grins all the same, sharp and utterly mischievous as he mimics the gesture. "Our little secret," he parrots with a wink. Another stream of giggles bubbles out of the teen before he can help it, and another pact is thus sealed. Partners in Crime once again.

Now, this would ordinarily be the part where Sabo pushes off the bed and takes his leave, goes back to their cabin and ponders in silence over everything and come to his own conclusion. But...he doesn't really want to be alone with his thoughts, not so soon. He doesn't want to climb the rigging, doesn't want to go seek out his brothers yet or mingle with the crew, either. He wants to be alone, but _doesn't,_ if that makes any sense.

(It doesn't, but that's how Sabo feels.)

So he doesn't leave. Whitebeard doesn't push him to, either, doesn't pry or say a word at all. They sit in companionable silence, listening to the soothing melody of the ship's gentle rocking on the tranquil waves. The silvery lettering of the book's front cover – the one Whitebeard had put down – glowing in the candlelight catches Sabo's eye, then, and he squints over the captain's massive lap to peer at it. "What's that book about?" he asks.

"Hm?" Whitebeard follows his gaze and then smiles, picking up the book and showing Sabo the front cover, a beautifully leather-bound thing as thick as Sabo's own skull; worn from use but clearly cared for. "A favorite of mine; a collection of old sailor's tales from beyond even _my_ time, believe it or not," he chuckles. Sabo dares to reach out, laying his palm almost reverently over the cover. He doesn't miss Whitebeard's smile, or the fond warmth lacing his tone when he asks, "Would you like to hear a few?"

"Yes!" Sabo cries, delighted. Only for his face to burn not half a second later at Whitebeard's look of surprise, and the boy ducks his head, face burning cheery red. "Sorry," he mumbles, and immediately curses himself for it – _stop apologizing!_

Whitebeard only laughs, patting Sabo's back again. "Not at all brat. Get comfortable, this is a good one." The captain shifts and Sabo goes with him, the pair resting with their backs against the headboard, Whitebeard holding up the book so he can see the fine-print. Sabo dares to shuffle that little bit closer, nearly leaning against the older man as he begins to read; his booming voice lowers by decibels, soft and soothing, and Sabo's utterly drawn in.

Enthralled by the tales spun by adventurers of old, it's not long before Sabo suddenly finds his eyes drooping despite his best efforts. Soon, he all but drifts off, delving into dreams of glorious battles, joyous feasts and shared spoils of legendary treasure...

...and hoping that one day, somehow, he might spin such tales himself. Maybe not quite as ambitious as a pirate raid, but something wonderful and _meaningful_ all the same.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

That's how Marco finds them not long later.

"Hey, Pops, have you seen – oh."

He pauses halfway through the doorway of his father's room. The man himself is laid out lazily on his bed, one booted leg crossed over the other. Seeing Marco in the doorway, he presses a finger to his lips and then points at the little figure tucked against his right side.

Sabo's always been small to Marco – not small like, say, Luffy, but short all the same (though Marco's half sure the kids are due for a growth spurt very soon) – but the way he's nestled against Whitebeard, curled up on his side like a pup in the protective embrace of its mother, the teen somehow looks even _smaller_ , younger, vulnerable. And when Marco, softened and rocked to his core, quietly tiptoes towards the bed and peers down at the sleeping child's face, all he sees is _peace._ Complete and utter peace, safety, in the presence of such a mighty man.

 _'These kids...'_

Marco can't help the stupid grin that worms its way across his face. "Well, damn," he whispers, passing his father a glance, and he nearly bursts out laughing; the old man's face is a _priceless_ picture of serenity and all the mushy feelings a father of a young child has. "Brings back memories, doesn't it, yoi?"

Whitebeard's chuckle is soft as anything, the hand he lays on Sabo's back a careful, loving thing. "Certainly does. In fact, I seem to recall another blond about his age who liked to make nests in the middle of my bed by stealing all the pillows." He meets Marco's eyes and gives him a _Look._

Marco blushes a deep red. "I- I recall no such thing," he stammers, for all the good it does when the old bastard just _grins_ at him. Marco rolls his eyes, ignoring the old coot and his ways, and carefully takes a seat next to Sabo.

He rests a hand atop the curly mess of the younger blonde's hair for a moment, hopelessly fond, and looks up at his father. "His brothers were looking for him, yoi," he explains. Whitebeard cocks his head, brow raised in query. "Luffy mentioned how he's not been acting like himself these last two days, and they haven't seen him since lunch. Went looking for him before dinner, but..." He looks down at the sleeping boy, oblivious to all, and smiles. "Seems just fine to me, yoi."

"Of course he'll be fine. Sabo's a strong lad," Whitebeard says, no shortage of pride in his tone. "No matter what he's going through, I've no doubt he'll overcome it with or without our aid."

Marco blinks, cuts his father a look. Pops stares back blankly.

Marco squints at him. "You know something," he says.

Whitebeard simply shrugs. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. That's between me and Sabo, though," he says, and presses a finger to his lips, giving Marco a sly wink.

He knows Marco _hates_ that, hates not knowing things – well, it doesn't _actually_ bother him, to each their own business and all, but Pops makes a big deal of it and screws with Marco until he cracks and he _hates it –_ and doesn't bother to hide his glee when the First Mate glares at him.

He'll let it go, though. Sabo's business really is his own until he's ready to open up, and it would make a hypocrite of Marco to dare pry into it. So he rolls his eyes as his father's antics and quickly changes the subject. "By the way, there's a small island just south of us," he says. "Thatch wants to do one last supply run before we reach the Groves, like what we did with...Garnet Island," – the mere mention of that place gives Marco hives now, seeing what its people did to their boys...and they _are_ theirs, in every way that matters, part of the crew or not – "just take a small team to gather whatever he needs and come straight back. Shouldn't take more than a day or two, he says, unless they run into trouble. Which he will, knowing him, yoi," he adds with a sigh that's half weary, half fond.

Whitebeard quirks a brow again. "Trouble?"

"From we know, the place has a heavy Marine presence. Nothing too big, thankfully, but...let's just say the place is kind of _ruled_ by the Marines, if you know what I mean."

(The Navy and the World Government are the natural enemies of pirates, that's just a fact. But Marco will readily admit that not all of them are the 'kill pirates on sight' type; hell, a few of Marco's own siblings are Ex-Navy officers, some of the greatest people he's ever had the pleasure of sailing with, good people with good morals whom he'll gladly fight to the death for.

But with every good seed, you'll find a truly bad one. Marines that abuse what power they have, preying on the weak and needy because they _can._ They can be worse than even nobility – but even they're more human any Celestial Dragon, so Marco can't complain much.)

Understanding in his ancient eyes, Pops nods once and looks at the wall, contemplating. Marco waits, though doesn't see much issue with the trip aside from that one little factor (and Thatch being...well, Thatch). Marco knows his brothers' strengths and limits, and even they know better than to try and tackle a threat that might be too big even for them alone; they'll call for backup if they need it.

"I see no issue," Pops says eventually. "Give your brother the go-ahead. And tell him to take the boys with him."

Marco blinks, hard. "You're serious?"

"They're strong, Marco, and getting stronger. We've at least two weeks before we reach Sabaody, and lord knows they'll be restless during that time. Let them explore, stretch their legs some before they give us hell."

"We _just_ had a party, yoi."

"And?"

"And that place is crawling with Marines."

"So long as you keep an eye on them, nothing will happen."

"See, you say that, but no matter what we do _they always seem to attract trouble –"_

"Hush, Marco. You'll wake the boy," Pops hisses, and points at Sabo. They both look down, tensing and wincing through gritted teeth. He hasn't stirred much, thankfully, but he does mutter under his breath, shuffling closer to the captain until his head is pillowed on his thigh. He settles down again with a content sigh.

Both pirates watch, wide eyed.

Marco blinks. That was damn near the cutest thing he's seen from Sabo, of all people. Looking at Pops, the man must be struggling to hold back a truly goofy grin.

Huffing a soft laugh, Marco shakes his head. "You really think they'll be okay with us, yoi?" he asks softly. Call him a mother hen if you will, but damn if the kids haven't grown on him like moss; he can't help but worry, more so with every damn time they _somehow_ manage to get themselves into trouble no matter where they are, like at least _one_ of them is a magnet for it. He bets it's Luffy.

"They need this, Marco. I've said this time and time again, but we can't coddle them," Whitebeard says. His eyes never leave Sabo's sleeping face. "If they do plan to leave us once we reach Sabaody, they'll need to be exposed to public places, to other people besides a crew of unruly pirates. Tundra was a good start until things went pear-shaped, of course, but they need more than that. They need room to grow if they want to get better, to heal, our personal feelings aside. Keep an eye on them, obviously, but other than that, give as much free reign as deemed appropriate. Also..."

Something softens in his eyes, still watching Sabo as he dreams in peace. "...I think Sabo will benefit most from this. He's as curious of the world as his brothers, if not more so. He'll enjoy the experience, I'm sure."

Marco watches his father closely, finding nothing but pride and unconditional love in his gaze – why he expected anything different at all is beyond him, really.

The First Mate sighs softly, relenting. If that's what he thinks is best, who is Marco to tell him otherwise? He's always had a knack for things like this, though it boggles Marco's mind something awful – must be a 'Dad' thing. "Alright, then," he says at last, giving Sabo's shoulder a final pat before hopping off the bed, heading for the door. "I'll let Thatch know, yoi, tell him to leave tomorrow. Just hope we don't regret this – I'm already getting grey hairs, yoi." He ignores his father's chuckle, and pauses in the doorway one last time, looking at the teen over his shoulder. "Dinner's nearly ready. Should we wake him up?"

Pops looks down at Sabo again. His new smile is an undeniably tender thing. "No," he says, a giant finger gently stroking those mussed up curls of his. Sabo shuffles even closer, and Marco all but _melts_ at the sight _._ "Let him sleep. I'll send him to the galley once he wakes up."

"Gotcha."

' _These kids,'_ he inwardly muses with a crooked grin as he turns and moseys on out of the captain's quarters, shutting the door behind him.

' _They've got us wrapped around their little fingers.'_

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Guys. GUYS. I'VE HAD A MONTH, LEMME TELL YA. Sorry for the slow update, this chapter was a struggle. A few have mentioned the pace is kinda lacking, so there's a lot I wanted to cram in one chapter...so the final word count is 14,869. GUYS DX XD** **But hey, I've been itching to write this scene, and it's almost perfect! Hope you like it, too!**

 **A few mentions before we start -**

 **nessa11997 - your comments give me life, my dear! Thank you so much**

 **Millennion - Thank you! I'll do my best to up the pace a bit :)**

 **rynn - and you're the sunshine to my rainy day :3**

 **\- EEEE! Thank you so much my dear! You might like this chapter then ;)**

 **Andy - I LOVE YOUR REVIEW XD Marco's past will be addressed, but it'll be a while ;)**

 **whirlybird70 - All the bros will have their moments, don't you worry :3 thanks for the review!**

 **ScarletMay5 - I love Sabo so much and I'm glad I'm doing him justice!**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - Love the mush, I live for the mush XD Thanks for the review!**

 **SakuraS41 - Sabo needs a FREAKING GOOD DAD FIGURE IN HIS LIFE! Thanks for the review :3**

 **Kohumi - Eeee! Tysm! I honestly do see some similarities between Sabo and Ace, but also not. Ace is more prideful than Sabo, and Sabo is far more emotional in ways Ace isn't. I might explain it better later XD**

 **Jennifer - I honestly can't wait for Dragon to find out myself XD I have a few ideas Thanks for the review!**

 **DemonKittyangel - NEVER DOUBT YOURSELF! YOU'RE AMAZING! Thanks hon, all the best for your fic!**

 **Sorry I can't respond to all of you, but I love you all so much! Without further ado, Chapter 24!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. I NEED SLEEEEP.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 24**

During breakfast the next morning, three boys still half asleep as they dig into their first of many meals (to Thatch's despair and delight, why that is, Ace still isn't sure) Marco emerges and approaches their table – now occupied by more than three wary former slaves. Haruta, Thatch, Namur and Curiel are regular visitors now, have been for a while, and now this little corner of the galley knows no peace nor cleanliness when chunks of food go flying (if they can escape from Luffy's rubbery reach).

Ace doesn't mind the company. Really, it's as fun as 'dining' with mountain bandits had been.

The First Mate glides over to their nook, side-stepping rubber limbs and food projectiles like it's second nature – it very well might be, with a crew as large and outrageous as this one – and lets them know that a small team of select commanders will be leaving with Thatch for a quick detour to a nearby island to pick up supplies; the trip will be about two days, three at the most given there aren't any incidents or unprecedented weather keeping them at bay.

Ace is ready to shrug it off and go back to eating. It's not uncommon for commanders or even division members to take off on their own ventures from time – Jozu mentioned a guy named Teach or something who's yet to return from a trip involving a personal matter none of them want to pester him about; unless it impacts the crew in any way, any man's business is his own. Ace respects that.

However – "Ace, Sabo, Luffy. With Pop's permission, you three will be going with them this afternoon, yoi," Marco adds.

Sabo chokes on his scrambled eggs, Curiel reaching over to pat his back unhelpfully. Luffy, cheeks stuffed with bacon and sausages, spins his head around at an 180 angle (earning an undignified screech from Haruta who falls off his chair) to stare with wide, sparkling eyes at Marco. Ace, meanwhile, drops his fork and jaw.

Said phoenix man smirks at them, wholly amused – Ace would be a fool not to notice the slight pinch between his brow, a worried gesture the trio are all too familiar with, especially when it concerns them. An often occurrence, unfortunately. "Yup. Believe it or not, Pops thinks it'll be a good idea to let you three trouble magnets get on a boat with one of _our_ biggest trouble magnets, yoi," he continues, ignoring Thatch's umbrageous squawk with the practiced gusto any older sibling would be right proud of. Ace certainly is.

Out of danger of suffocating, Sabo spares a look with Luffy, the rubber boy in question beaming from ear to ear as he vibrates in his seat. Of course, the blonde can't help but return it, and the pair share a high-five, excited for this unexpected new adventure. Ace stares and stares.

They _really_ want them to come along? On a _shopping_ trip? After not one but _two_ incidents in which they've proven too troublesome to be let loose from the _Moby_ for any period of time?

Ace wants to call bull. There's no way Marco can mean this.

Yet, the man's expression is an open book this time, and Ace can't find the joke. He's serious. Weirder still, it's Whitebeard's call, _his_ decision to allow said mischief-makers to tag along. Not Marco's, not Thatch's, not even Haruta or Izo. Just Whitebeard.

Something surges in Ace's chest. An odd blend of gratitude, confusion...and independence?

(He's been independent since he was five. Left by the bandits and his (mostly) uncaring foster mother to his own devices, left to explore and then conquer the jungle. By ten, he could kill a boar thrice his size and strength by himself – no adults to offer aid or caution him of the dangers. He could look after himself just fine.

But then they were taken, and he's grown used to taking orders more or less without hesitation regardless if the burning hatred in his belly screams otherwise. He was told what to do and where to go, told to _smile_ and entertain and inspire awe and fear, to _allure_. He'd lost what independence he'd had, ruled under the thumb of one man he could kill were it not for the sea stone, the threats and the punishments that nearly crippled him.

And yet here's Whitebeard, giving it back. Granted, they'll still be under the watchful eye of a handful of commanders – probably for the best at this rate – but still. And it shouldn't even mean that much; it's only a two day shopping trip, hardly different than the runs he and his brothers took to the Grey Terminal.

But it does. It means _so_ much.

Ace smiles, a small but heartfelt thing that he half hides as he ducks his head. Judging by the look he catches on Marco's face from the corner of his eye, he doesn't quite succeed, but that's alright. He doesn't mind.)

Luffy is certainly excited, to no one's surprise. The prospect of any new adventure, no matter how mundane, on any island they come across is far too strong for him to ignore or dare to deny. Sabo's trying his hardest (and failing) to quell his own excitement – he's been wanting new reading material for a while now, something other than charts and history books to keep him entertained (and "away from the freakin' rigging," Ace heard Rakuyo sighing under his breath once. It wasn't angry, but fondly exasperated, and that pretty much sums up Ace's twin nicely.)

There hadn't been a chance to go sightseeing at Tundra before everything went to hell, though the markets were plenty enthralling at the time. Ace wouldn't mind mingling in a town proper this time, window-shopping and what-not. Y'know, normal people things. Things he never did even back on Dawn, not that he ever cared to back then. It might even be fun, given he can keep his brothers in line, ready to steer them clear of any trouble, for once.

Speaking of brothers, the pair are looking at him now, wide eyes pleading, waiting, deferring to him as usual for the final decision. In this case, it really doesn't matter what he says, they'll probably haul ass to the island regardless.

Ace rolls his eyes and turns back to Marco, shrugging. "Sounds good to us," he says. Sabo lets out a victory _whoop,_ and Luffy giggles, rubbery arms reaching to tackle Ace in a crushing hug. The freckled teen sighs but takes it, ruffling Luffy's hair.

Marco nods and smiles, curiously relieved. "Great, yoi. I know I shouldn't have to tell you –" he looks directly at Thatch for this, to which the chef replies with a sour pout in return, but mostly for show, because it's Thatch, "– to be careful and to _behave_ while you're there, but something tells me I'll have to anyway, depending on who Thatch decides to recruit."

Despite the blatant back-hand, Thatch looks distinctly pleased as he wipes his hands on a spare napkin. "I know Izo wants to come along. Something about needing more threads and fabrics or whatever the hell. I'd honestly rather not know," he adds with a shiver to earn a collective chuckle as he stands, ruffling Luffy's hat as he saunters past. He repeats this for Sabo's mess of curls – he's yet to brush his hair from the sleepy mess it is – who ducks his head with a grin until the chef's hand is gone. "I'mma start preppin' the boat. Haruta, you wanna come?"

Still on the floor, flat on his back, Haruta raises a leg. "Hell yeah I do."

"Cool. Curiel?"

"Naw, man. Got stuff to do. But if you wouldn't mind pickin' up some booze for me?"

"Gotcha. Namur?"

"I'd rather not get involved with whatever crazies you'll inevitably get up to. Count me out."

Thatch shrugs, grinning carelessly. Beside him, Marco rolls his eyes like he's already regretting this whole thing. "Suit yourself. I'll see who else wants to go plus the kids, then. I'll see the rest of you out on the deck in thirty. Bring whatever you might for two nights just in case." He turns to the boys, winking mischievously in full view of an exasperated Marco. "You'll love this one, pups. Nothin' better than a Whitebeard shopping trip!" With that, and a hearty slap on the back that Marco takes in stride, Thatch wanders off to prepare for departure.

Luffy, plopping his hat back on his head, gets back to cleaning off his plate faster than usual that the just might choke (then again he's rubber, can he even choke?) Sabo isn't far behind despite his efforts, powering through the mountain of food. Ace turns to Marco and catches his gaze, offering a smile that hopefully helps to settle the mounting stress that comes with the joys of being an older brother and a First Mate. "Thanks, Marco," he says.

Marco blinks at him, then smirks ruefully. He sets a hand on Ace's head and ruffles his hair. "Don't thank me, yoi. Don't thank my father, either. Old bastard doesn't know what can of worms he's opened by letting Thatch roam without a sensible leash."

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

They board the little ship later that afternoon, carrying rucksacks full of whatever essentials Izo had thrown at them – most of them were snatched from their room, others clearly new and waiting to be used, much to Izo's undisguised delight.

With Thatch, Haruta, Izo, Jozu and Rakuyo manning the boat and the young trio tagging along for the trip despite all odds and concerns (mostly from Marco, with good reason), they head out while the waves are at their calmest. They're a tad rougher today compared to what the brothers have grown accustomed to; according to Navigation, Paradise should be expecting a storm.

 _'About time,'_ Ace thinks, leaning against the steady railing and gazing out into the blue beyond, deceptively tranquil. From all the horror stories they'd heard back on Dawn, Ace had anticipated far worse. Aside from one or two overcast mornings and chilly evenings and Tundra's overall climate, it's been paradise (no pun intended); blue skies all around, blazing sunshine, calm currents that sometimes put them to sleep when the slippery bitch tries her hardest to evade them.

Not that it hasn't been great, but some _real_ Grand Line action is long overdue. The thought of facing such a storm churns something in Ace's gut, shooting electricity from head to toe. Perhaps it's excitement, perhaps it's dread. Either way, when it comes, he'll readily face it head-on, no cowering below deck like he half expects the crew to have them do; endearing as they are, there's a certain point where it's almost overbearing.

(Is this what having attentive parents is like? Is this how Luffy and Sabo feel with him?)

Luffy will _love_ the storm – unless he's blown overboard like that time in their tree-house, Ace and Sabo's quick thinking the only thing that saved him from flying off into the distance. Even then, despite the threat of death itself, the little idiot will undoubtedly laugh and holler in the face of it like it's one big game, another adventure for him to tackle and eventually overcome. Here's hoping that adventure doesn't end with a dip in a raging ocean.

Speaking of troublesome brothers...

The moment they'd set off from the anchored _Moby,_ the rubber boy had plopped himself at the bow of the boat, just far enough from the edge to settle Ace's nerves, and hasn't moved since. Legs crossed and hands bracing his crossed ankles, Luffy faces the open sea with bright eyes, wonder and joy for what's to come. His hat hangs safely by the chord around his neck, swaying in the sea-salt breeze. Sabo stands on the deck close by, leaning as far out as he dares to let the winds sweep through his curls, goggle-clad hat clutched in one hand.

Ace watches them bask in the late afternoon glow, content with the world, and smiles.

They arrive at the port some three hours later, around five in the evening – the youngest two managed to fight boredom thanks to a miscellany of card games Haruta conjured, but it's a struggle to keep even Sabo on the boat long enough to dock it. Jozu hops over the rail to tie off the little ship, and the rest of them dismount one by one. A quick discussion prior left Rakuyo to watch the ship while the rest scour the town for whatever they need or fancy for the remainder of the voyage.

The town itself is nothing spectacular. It's quaint, with cobblestone paths and modest stalls and buildings two or three stories high, winding fields and small forests in the distance with flourishing livestock and blooming flowers that sway in the cool breeze. Townsfolk mill the pathways in little droves, idle chatter and laughing children abundant in the air. Cloying aromas of fresh bread, sweets and roasting meat and perfumes assault Ace's senses, but not in a way that leave him dizzy.

It's an odd blend of Foosha village and the... _less_ extravagant parts of High Town, Ace thinks, taking it all in. He smiles, nostalgia washing over him that doesn't ache like it used to. In fact, he welcomes it.

Before they can plunge into the town proper, Thatch claps his hands once and rubs them like an eager fly, garnering their attention. "Alright, gather 'round, people. Marco says I have to be the responsible one as the leader of this troop. So –" he gestures himself with a wave of his hand, slanted grin and all, "– bask in the responsibleness."

Izo gags. "I'd rather bask in literally anything else."

"And ain't exposure to toxic waste bad for you?" Haruta chimes. Izo chokes, Jozu fails to fight a grin as he shakes his head, and on the ship, Rakuyo doubles over and wheezes. Luffy and Sabo dissolve into giggles buried into each other's shoulders, and Ace doesn't bother to hide his laughter. Why should he, at Thatch's expense?

Thatch pouts, then rolls his eyes when he's given no sympathy. "Ah, shuddup. Really though, gotta lay out the ground rules for the next few days, so get your lousy, under-appreciating asses over here."

They comply, laughter subsiding, leaning close. The docks are sparse, so they don't draw any suspicious gazes. A quick sweep with his _other_ sense warns Ace of any nearby that might linger too long, but no one does. The people here kindly mind their own damn business.

"For today," Thatch begins, "we'll split into two groups. Sabo, you're with Izo and Haruta; you three look around the stalls for medical kits and spices for yours truly, and help Izo with whatever the hell demonic conjuring he's got planned for the next ritual this coming full moon –"

Izo slaps his arm. Hard. Thatch, all poise and dignity, grits his teeth and squeaks.

"Never learns, does he?" Haruta mutters flatly. Jozu shakes his head.

Blinking away the pain (are those _tears?)_ Thatch clears his throat and regains composure like he had any at all. "A-Ace, Luffy, you come with me and Jozu. We'll hit the food markets and DIY shops since we might be lookin' at a storm soon. Best to stock up for any repairs before we reach Sabaody – they'll charge you out the ass for a paper-clip. For now, we want you boys to stick close to us, no wandering off –" he looks at Luffy for this; the boy has the grace to wince with a small but truly repentant grin, fingers gripping the brim of his hat shyly "– and not to draw any unnecessary attention. Not to be the stick in the mud, but we really can't risk getting in trouble with authorities this time."

Well, that goes without saying; they're pirates after all (or some of them are). But the chef's expression silences the witty retort on the tip of Ace's tongue. Gone is the jovial man they've come to love, who'll dance about his nook in the kitchen and whip up treats or crack easy jokes to break tensions or banish midnight fears. Instead, there's a far more sombre thing creasing the lines in his face. Not unkind nor fierce as it was during their first search for a wayward Luffy, but decidedly cautious, if not aggravated.

Another reminder of who this man is, where he stands in the Whitebeard Pirate ranks that always, _always_ takes them by surprise.

Ace watches him a moment longer, and asks – "Why not?"

Thatch turns to him, his smile rueful. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "See that big ugly building up there?"

The boys follow his finger, searching. Sure enough, peeking above the modest rooftops, lies what appears to be a pristine building as high as any royal castle. Squinting in the light of the dying sun, Ace can just make out a familiar symbol on the flag flaring with pride at the top.

Marines.

Ace blinks, getting it but not _quite,_ and turns back to Thatch. "Okaaaay, so Marines are based here. Nothin' you guys haven't had to deal with before."

Thatch waggles his hand in a so-so gesture, brows pinched. "Sorta. Most of the time, sure, we can handle them or just ignore them. So long as we don't cause trouble, they leave us alone and vice versa. But these guys...well, let's just say this island is kinda _ruled_ by the Marines."

Ace tilts his head. Luffy mirrors him. Sabo stiffens. "What do you mean they _rule_ it?" Ace asks slowly. Thatch's souring expression already has him dreading the answer.

"This island is only small," Jozu says, and all eyes fall on him. He folds his arms over the broad planes of his chest, frowning deep. "Because of this, not many pirates bother here, but the ones that do are ruthless, wanting to cash in on an easy score. Hence why the Marines decided to step in, establishing a base and preventing any pirates from getting on the island. However, due to their running success, the power got to their heads, and it was only a matter of time before they acted out on it. They collect outrageous taxes, enforce ridiculous laws, exacting whatever they determine is 'absolute justice', be it life in jail or a death sentence, no matter the crime. Hell, I think they even have curfew."

"Yeah, they do" Haruta nods, scowling in distaste. "Marco said. No one outside their homes past nine o'clock 'till nine am. The punishment is either jail time or a beating, I heard."

Ace blinks at the lot of them. A beating? Jail time? For going out past nine o'clock? That's... _ridiculous_. What if there's an emergency? Wouldn't businesses suffer from such an early closing time? And can Marines actually collect taxes? Garp never mentioned _any_ of this in his constant spiels...

Arms folded in his robes, Izo huffs through his nose, a brash thing not often heard from the cross-dresser. "The townsfolk at first expressed their gratitude through gifts and such," he says, glaring at the base in the distance like the stain it is among the humble brownstone and greenery. "Now they're subjected to what might be worse than any pirate raid, seeing as they can't do anything about it without the Navy abandoning them, or worse. They live in subjugation, fear. You can practically smell it in the air."

Ace doesn't hear much of what's said after, all chatter dull in his ears. He looks over his shoulder at the base, stares at the flag waving in the breeze like it deserves to be there. Like the corrupt bastards marching about in that building deserve to be _here,_ have any right to call themselves Marines or bear their mark at all.

You wouldn't think it, watching the people and the children play and walk freely in the streets, smiling faces and eyes aglow with innocence. But Izo's right – you can _feel_ it in the air. Or Ace can, the way he feels a lot of things. Even now, still early yet, kids are rallying and gathering their balls or skipping ropes, trotting off in different directions, no doubt back to the safety of their homes. But not to hide from lowlife criminals lurking in the alleys, or even the pirates that've just docked.

Ace never wanted to join the Marines, regardless of Garp's constant 'insistence' that all three of them do so for their own good, their safety. With Roger's blood in his veins, joining the very organization that had ended both his parents lives would only ensure his death, make it all the easier. But he can respect what some of them are trying to do for the world. The ones that don't orchestrate witch-hunts for women that _might_ be carrying the child of infamous criminals, that is.

But looking around now, he can't help but think what Garp might do if he were here, if he could see what they've done to this place under the name he bears so proudly on his shoulders, the flag he'd wanted them to sail under when they came of age...

There's no more time to dwell when Thatch shakes himself, shaking the foul mood away with it, and offers an amiable smile. "Okay, enough of the doom and gloom. Let's meet back here by eight on the dot, give us enough time to get settled before the curfew. Ace, Loof, Jozu, let's get going."

Taking Luffy by the hand before the temptation to wander off takes hold of the idiot, Ace starts after the two commanders, sparing a final glance over his shoulder to see Sabo off. Only to pause, frowning, when the blond doesn't move to follow Izo and Haruta. He can't see his twin's face, but he's staring at the Navy base with taut shoulders, fingers curling into his palm in tight fists.

Ace watches him, confused, if not the slightest bit worried. At his side, Luffy's unreadable gaze follows his and stays fixed on Sabo's still form.

He doesn't feel the familiar chill that often, if not always, comes with Sabo's anger; the ice cold hatred for any that dare come near their family with foul intent, for any he knows he can beat within an inch oblivion, or simply send them there. Instead, Ace feels a piercing _heat,_ like fire licking at the skin, slowly spreading with righteous wrath.

Sabo is angry. But he hasn't 'switched'. At least, not in the way that's familiar to them. That's...a first.

No, that's not true. He's felt this before, that day when Outlook spotted them, called Sabo out, and they learned the truth from the blonde. The way he spoke of his 'family', the anger Ace saw swirling in his eyes, flowing off his body in soft waves...

Ace is unsure whether to be proud or concerned.

Whatever the case, it's still not something Ace wants to see or feel from his little brother, who's already been acting _off_ these last few days – or was, until he'd sauntered off last night to who knows where and came down to dinner half-satisfied and half-mortified, curls rumpled like he'd had a good nap. So Ace clears his throat, loud enough to carry across the way – "Bo, you good?"

Sabo jolts, freed from his spell, and spins deftly on one heel to face Ace, invisible flames snuffed out. "Huh? What?" he stammers. Luffy giggles, and Sabo pouts, eyes narrowed to slits and darting between them. "What're you two doing behind my back?" he asks slowly, lips quirked with playful suspicion – and not once does Ace catch any residual frost in his gaze that's often there when Sabo comes back from a 'switch'.

Ace smiles, pleased and relieved (and proud, he decides. Anything is better than what was born from their former hell). "Nothing," he calls. Sabo clearly doesn't believe him, so he shrugs and points over the blond's head at the retreating. "You're gonna lose Haruta and Izo standing there like a moron."

"Huh?" Sabo spins around again, looking for his assigned team only to find them several steps ahead. "Oh!" he cries, and hurries off in a flurry of blond and whipping coattails. Luffy waves at his retreating back and then tugs on Ace's hand, urging him to follow after Thatch and Jozu, who opted to wait for them.

Ace rejoins their team and together, they head off into town. He offers the base in the distance a final, blistering glare before deciding to ignore it, and at least try to enjoy himself. Anything else can come later, when they're settled in the cabin of their little boat, away from prying eyes and corrupt justice systems.

(None of them notice the other small ship mooring into the docks beside the Whitebeard's, their flag black and unmarked. Rakuyo does, and casts the newcomers aboard the smaller vessel a narrow glance.

A young woman – no, a girl yet, for all the innocence that remains in the sparkle of her eyes – dismounts with an older fellow dressed in a Hawaiian button up,white hair tied back in a ponytail, shorts and sandals (textbook tourist), chatting away with him happily and swinging her basket. The rest of their party follow shortly after, similarly dressed.

The older fellow pauses. He looks up, meets Rakuyo's gaze behind tinted glasses. Rakuyo stares back. They regard each other in silence for several heartbeats...

The older fellow nods once. Rakuyo nods back, and then turns the other way. The older fellow carries on into the town. The girl swings her basket of fake flowers, side by side with him.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

The markets here, while not quite as vibrant or loud as Tundra was, is still a sight for Sabo's sore and hungry eyes as the three of them follow the hustle and bustle of the townsfolk, Izo having them pause every now and then to investigate one stall or another, picking out the best of whatever he finds. The best are always the most expensive, or so they say, but Izo has plenty to spend and plenty of hands to carry the load – not that Haruta is overly pleased at being the pack mule for the day, but at the other man's blistering look, fingers inching towards a concealed pistol, he wisely doesn't argue.

Swinging one of Izo's own handwoven baskets in one hand, Sabo takes it all in with a smile, the brim of his top hat shielding his eyes from the worst of the glaring sun even as it starts to dwindle, making way for dusk. The sights and smells and brilliant colors are almost enough to distract him from what little time they have to explore before the...curfew.

Would've been nice to see what this place looks like at night, in the light of the moon or flickering lamps, to take a walk through the fields or the forest. Yet...

Sabo's smile falters, and he once again finds himself turning back to look at the towering base. Even from this distance, it stands out like the eyesore it is. A clock-tower, the same off-white as the base and clearly new, ticks away like a taunt to the citizens. It's working, if the many heads constantly turning its way to check are any indication. Even the shopkeepers keep twitching towards it, almost on reflex, though it's barely past seven in the evening. Plenty of time to spare, but the paranoia – the _fear –_ has them rushing.

To the relief of said shopkeepers, the commanders are understanding and patient despite the rushing of transactions, the constant twitching and fumbling hands. Izo dons that smile of his, the same he'd worn back when Sabo and his brothers were no more than nervous foals amid the crew, and Haruta offers each of them a sporty grin and a salute that has a few cracking smiles or grins in return. The younger commander's charm working its magic once more. He just might put Thatch to shame.

Sabo really _does_ try to focus on the conversations, on the innocent questions thrown at him – "You think this'll be enough for stew? Thatch loves to cook in bulk but just how _much_ paprika does one really need?" – "How are you boys for soap? I'll get you one that smells like bubblegum if you like!" – but all he can muster are a few half-hearted nods or mumbles, his mind elsewhere.

That elsewhere being that godawful base. He just can't stop looking at it, not without the inescapable desire to watch it _burn –_

" _Sabo!"_

Sabo blinks. "Huh –?"

" _Move it, brat!"_

Sabo cries out as he's roughly checked in the shoulder, cheek smashing against the cobblestone as he's sent sprawling. His baskets' contents spill out, and his hat rolls merrily away, out of reach. Idle chatter dies, and shocked gasps and fearful murmurs follow. Sabo's head spins, cheek stinging and no doubt bleeding, and he has half a mind to cuss his offender out. He goes to do just that, only to pause, face to face with – he squints – a muscular mass of an angry Navy officer.

 _Crap._

The officer sneers down at the teen's prone form over the bridge of a hooked nose, all too familiar of the staff _back there_ that Sabo has to blink, shake his head, before the Marine once more replaces the entitled sneer of a pale faced servant. Not much of an improvement, but better than the alternative.

"What where you're goin', runt," the man spits. "You're meddlin' with official Navy business, here. Patrols for curfew start now, 'n you're gettin' in my way! You wanna spend the night in a cell, is that it? I can arrange that!"

Sabo freezes, paling. The man's words, his gravelly voice, rings in his ears like a thundering gong.

 _Spend the night in a cell._

 _A cell._

Muscles lock, and he's trembling before he can stop it. He can feel it – the fear coursing through his veins like ice water, memories blazing before his eyes, of chains and dank cells, rocking in a corner praying and muttering apologies under his breath _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please let me live let me go I wanna be free let me live let them live let me go let us go –_

"Well?!" the officer barks, and Sabo _flinches,_ a knee-jerk thing that he can't suppress as the man takes a menacing step closer, one meaty hand curling into a tight fist. "Got somethin' you wanna say to me, punk? Or should I beat it out of you?"

"I – I," Sabo stammers, head down, shoulders hunched to his ears, eyes squeezed shut. He can feel eyes on him, everywhere, everyone _staring_ and whispering. Feels Izo's bristling anger, feels Haruta's desire to unsheathe his blades and rush forward despite Thatch's warning, but he _can't_ because they'll get in trouble, maybe thrown in prison and it'll be _Sabo's fault and he_ _ **can't**_ _let that happen again god WHY is he so useless why hasn't anything changed for him at all? –_

"I – I'm – I'm s –"

" _I'm sorry!"_

Sabo's head snaps up, eyes wide open – and there's a girl standing between him and the gawking Marine, arms spread wide, a woven basket dotted with fake but vibrant flowers dangling from one hand. The mint pastel green of her frilly, knee-length dress assaults most of Sabo's vision before he remembers himself and looks up instead at the back of her head, at the firm set of her broad shoulders.

He blinks, once, twice, three times. Who the hell – when did she get – _huh?_

Still half sprawled on the floor, Sabo can't see the girl's face, turned up to the officer's and hidden behind a neat bob of brown hair, but he can hear and feel the smile in her voice – "I'm so sorry, officer," she says, not quite so desperate as when she'd – Sabo looks down – _skidded_ over to him, thick white heels leaving marks in the cobblestone. Whoa. "My friend didn't mean to get in your way. He was just looking at the time, that's all! Please forgive him, he really meant no trouble at all."

Sabo blinks. _Friend?_

But he knows an act when he sees it, knows better than to open his mouth, so he clamps it shut. The officer, wrong footed now that it's almost funny, looks between the girl and Sabo. The girl doesn't budge an inch, not even under the intense scrutiny of the much larger man. All she does is tilt her head, and Sabo imagines the innocence she's trying to project the same way Luffy does when he wants something, namely food from a susceptible Thatch.

Eventually, the officer scoffs, hackles lowering. "Whatever. Ain't got time for this." He steps around the girl and Sabo just as she lowers her arms, footfalls heavy and loud in Sabo's sensitive ears as he scoots quickly out of his path. The murmuring crowds split for him even as he pauses, casting Sabo a final glare over his shoulder. "Get off the streets, brat. Else it won't just be criminals you'll have'ta worry about," he vows with a rumbling growl. With that, he stomps away.

Sabo lets out a breath, shoulders slumping. That was close.

(And so damn pathetic. What would Whitebeard think if he saw him now, after what they talked about, cowering in the middle of the street? God, he doesn't want to think about it. It hurts more than he ever thought it would.)

A sigh above him, relieved and irritated, and a click of heels. Sabo tears his gaze from the lumbering officer and the dispersing crowds, finding a pale hand extended to him instead. "You okay there?" the girl asks, genuine and soft.

Mustering a wobbly smile – it's over now, it's alright _–_ Sabo takes the offered hand and lets himself be hauled to his feet, stumbling a little because _whoa_ she's strong, and her _grip,_ dear lord. He doesn't shake his hand out, but it's a close thing. "Uh, yeah. Yeah I'm good, thanks a – oh _."_

He looks up, and he's rendered speechless, again, by the pure _blue_ of the wide, concerned eyes beheld to him, sparkling in the looming gloom of twilight.

They're a shade or two darker than his own, but where his bear a hint of green – an inheritance from his mother – hers are flawless, deep and endless as the sea, round with sprinkles of innocence. He's staring, he knows he is, but for the life of him he can't look away _._

She blinks. "What? What's wrong?" She pats her cheeks blindly, rosy and sun-kissed with barely there freckles, fainter than Ace's. "Is there something on my face?"

 _'Freckles, actually'_ he almost says, but a good mental slap kick-starts his brain back into action. "O-Oh, uh, _no_ , nonono, nothing –" He scrambles to gather his things off the ground and stuff them haphazardly into his basket, all to avoid her gaze as she takes a step back and watches him, head tilted, fingers laced behind her back. Sabo feels his face burn hotter and hotter under her scrutiny, and _why am I so sweaty? Is this puberty? But I just had it!_

Sabo chuckles, a hopelessly awkward thing, desperately scraping his brain for something, _anything,_ to say. "U-Uh...thank you, miss, f-for helping me back there. It really was my fault, I got distracted and – well, yeah. That happened. Sorry for the trouble, you shouldn't have had to do that. And thank you! Sorry, again. Thanks."

 _Nailed it._

He cuts a glance over at where Izo and Haruta stand, watching it all play out (along with the vendor of the stall just behind them, his chin in his hand, elbow propped atop the wooden stand like he's watching a good show.) All three are grinning at him, and Sabo doesn't _like_ it _._ He narrows his eyes, shifting them between the girl and the trio, a silent and very despairing ' _help me I'm an awkward bastard who doesn't know how to talk to people least of all women!'_ that he hopes they catch.

They do, but all they do is grin harder and shake their heads.

 _Traitors, every one of them._

The girl regards him (no doubt noticing the exchange but electing to ignore it) and then she smiles _–_ it's the brightest thing he's seen since Luffy. "You're welcome. And you don't have to apologize. If there's one thing I can't stand it's bullies, no matter what rank they are." She looks down, searching, and bends to sweep Sabo's hat off the ground, looking it over and dusting off the brim and goggles; nothing's cracked or loose, and Sabo lets out a breath.

She beckons him closer with a finger. The odd flutter in his chest returns, but he leans forward anyway – they're about the same height, Sabo just a hair taller – and she plops his hat atop his curls, deliberately pressing the brim over his eyes. He splutters, stumbling backwards, and her light laughter rings like bell-chimes.

By the time he's set his hat to rights, she's rummaging about in the pocket of her dress – dresses can have _pockets_? – and takes out a handkerchief, holding it out to him. In the bottom right-hand corner, a cursive 'K' is woven into the fabric. "Here," she says. Sabo stares at the piece of cloth dumbly for a good thirty seconds before she takes pity on him. "For your face. You've got blood where your cheek hit the floor."

Understanding dawns, but Sabo balks all the same, hands raised. "Oh, no, no i-it's fine! That's your – I mean, I don't wanna dirty your –" God above what is _wrong_ with him? He can barely get tow words out without stammering like a hapless school boy. Does he have a concussion? Why is his face so _hot?_

She rolls her eyes, but the smile doesn't falter as she grabs his hand and firmly places the handkerchief in his palm. "Don't be silly, it's just a piece of cloth. I can clean it later," she says, letting him go and stepping back. There's something in her eyes, firm and unyielding, that dares him to argue with her. He wisely doesn't. "Be sure to put some ice on it when you get home before it swells too badly."

"...r-right. Thanks. I'll do that." Sabo scrubs at his cheek carefully with the dainty fabric, face still burning with something that isn't painful but still annoyingly prominent. "Sorry again," he mumbles before he can help it. Her smile _does_ falter now, and she tilts her head. He chuckles, mirthless, almost bitter. "I should be able to fight my own battles. Not get others involved in my messes, y'know?"

She's quiet for a moment, regarding him. Eventually, her smile returns. Smaller than before, but _knowing,_ too close to home (or lack thereof) that he almost shivers.

"Don't apologize," she says again, though it sounds more like a command than a friendly suggestion. "Everyone needs help sometimes. No need to be ashamed."

Sabo stares, hand slowly lowering from his cheek, fingers tight around the lovely fabric now sullied with flecks of blood. She stares back, her smile full of genuine summer warmth and _understanding,_ but how could she? Not everyone is as unlucky as he and his brothers are. Someone like her can't have suffered at the hands of the world and come out like this. Unless they're Luffy, and even then there are lingering scars, scars not even someone as impossible as his little brother can overcome, not alone.

(Then again, not everyone is as weak as they are. Weak as Sabo still is, in all the ways that matter...)

He shakes the thoughts away quickly, banishing the shadows before they get their chance. "...I...I uh...I'm Sabo, by the way," he says instead, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you."

She moves to take it. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm –"

"Hey, Kay!"

Sabo doesn't jump, but it's very close. The girl – 'Kay', apparently – does, but only a little, and they both whirl at the call of the gruff voice. An older fellow, donning the most _hideous_ Hawaiian shirt Sabo's seen and long, white hair tied back into a ponytail, waves her over from a distance. It's hard to make his face out with the massive sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, but if Sabo squints, he can just catch the familiar pattern of _webbing_ between the man's fingers, gills beneath the collar, scales reflecting in the orange glow of the setting sun. _A Fishman...?_

"It's getting late, Kay!" he calls. "We'd best be off for the hotel before the curfew! Hurry along, now!"

Wait, what?

The pair share a half-panicked glance and then turn to the clock-tower. The old man's right; it's already seven forty-five, and the sun is nearly gone, the streets slowly but surely emptying. The curfew is just over an hour away.

 _Uh oh._

Sabo turns back to Kay, smiling ruefully. "Guess I held you up. Sorry," he says – and with a jolt that leaves him kind of sick, he realizes he's apologized more times than he can count in the last ten minutes alone. He barely stifles a wince. This _has_ to be a new record.

Kay just shakes her head, her smile a less bitter mirror of his. "Don't apologize," she says – again, an order, not a request. "It's fine. But my uncle's right, I'd better get going." She starts to walk away, flashes a final grin over her shoulder. "It was nice meeting you, Sabo! Remember to ice your cheek!"

She hurries off before Sabo can reply, catching up to her uncle – and he _is_ a Fishman, if the fin peeking through the thick curtain of white hair isn't already telling. Sabo stares after them, after her, a moment longer until they disappear around the corner, gone from his sight.

Her handkerchief is still clutched in his hand, soft between his calloused fingers.

"Well, _that_ happened."

Sabo had all but forgotten about the commanders, and jumps half a foot when he turns to face the pair. Izo's eyes are _sparkling,_ hands folded under his chin like the picture of innocence and delight he likes to think he is. Haruta on the other hand, makes Sabo want to run far, far away. He's grappled by the shoulders before he can get the chance, the commander beaming wide enough to shame a Cheshire cat –

" _Duuuude!"_ he cackles in Sabo's ear, delighted as anything. "She _likes_ you! I'm so _proud!_ Oh sweet mother sea, wait 'till Thatch hears!"

Sabo lets the hyena of a commander shake him back and forth, too busy trying and failing to process everything, make sense of what just happened in the span of forever which was really only five minutes. That, and embers of a memory...

 _She's...almost like Mei. Or everything Ace said she was. Kind and brave and stronger than all of us..._

"We can celebrate Sabo's 'achievements' later," Izo remarks, but does nothing to hide his mirth even as he slips Sabo's basket from his slacking grip and starts to walk quickly back the way they came. "We should be getting back, too. The last thing I want is a lecture on tardiness by _Thatch_ of all people."

"Oh _god_ no. Thatch and 'Lecture' go as well as water and cereal," Haruta gags, snagging Sabo by the wrist and pulling him along. "C'mon, lovebird. Better get that cheek looked at, too. Your crush wasn't kidding about the swelling."

"Yeah, sure," Sabo mutters absently, letting himself get dragged along, bringing up his free hand to regard Kay's handkerchief. His blood dots the once pristine material, right above the beautifully embroidered lettering. He lets his calloused thumb gently skirt over the letter, wondering. She'd left in a hurry, but what if she'll want it back? Will she come looking for it, or will he have to look for her to return it? It's only a handkerchief, and she hadn't seemed wholly concerned about using it to wipe blood off a stranger's cheek...but life has taught him a few things, however short his has been; even the little things you have, you guard close to your heart. You never know what you have until you don't have it.

(It's a saying he's heard before, from loud, abrasive bandits in hunts on the mountains and whispering, frightened slaves hunkering together in cells. Not something he ever would've learned from his fath – from Outlook, among privileged nobles who'll never want for anything in their lives.)

Fingers touch his cheek. It doesn't hurt, but Sabo jolts from his reverie – anger, confusion, wonder _rage –_ all the same and follows the owner to Izo. The man's naturally pale features are pinched with concern, eyes bright. "Are you alright, dear?" he asks. "All joking aside, that bastard knocked you down good back there."

Sabo immediately shakes his head, haphazardly pocketing the handkerchief to lay his hand over Izo's against his cheek. "No, no I'm fine, really," he assures. "I mean, he was right, I should've been looking –"

"That doesn't excuse his behavior," Izo interjects. It's almost harsh, but lacks any real bite. He takes his hand away, and Sabo lets him, watching as his brows furrow with something close to shame. It's not a look he's ever seen on the commander's face – on anyone's, since they boarded – and Sabo's heart clenches. "And it certainly shouldn't have happened while we were right there," Izo continues. "It's our fault that _we_ weren't paying attention to _you_ as we should have, that we didn't do anything when we _could_ have. That's what we're here for."

Sabo stares at him. When he turns to Haruta on his other side, hand still wrapped tight around his wrist in a hold that almost bruises, he finds the younger man's expression mirroring Izo's, but with a fire burning bright in his narrowed eyes with indignation.

Their concern touches Sabo greatly, but he sees enough self-loathing on his big brother's face as is. He doesn't want it on theirs, too, not for his sake.

So he reaches for Izo's hand, twisting his wrist in Haruta's to interlock their fingers, squeezing tight. They jolt at the action, turning to face him. He offers a smile he hopes is comforting, all teeth, eyes scrunched shut and everything. "It's okay. I'll be fine. Besides, you couldn't do anything without getting into trouble, and everything turned out okay thanks to Kay. Don't blame yourselves over this," he says. When they still look unsure under the thin layer of surprise, he gives their hands another squeeze. "Let's go. I don't wanna be on the receiving end of Thatch's lecture either, trust me. I get enough of them from Ace."

That finally brings out a smile from the pirates, fond and exasperated, and they carry on at a quick but steady pace back to the docks, Sabo tucked between them. He feels like a child half his age walking between his parents, worse still since both commanders practically tower over him (one day, he vows, _one day),_ but it's a sacrifice of pride he's willing to make. Among everything else he's willingly given, this is a breeze.

Anything to take the pain away, the guilt and loathing from their eyes, when really, Sabo's incompetence, cowardice, is wholly to blame –

" _Don't apologize. Everyone needs help sometimes. No need to be ashamed."_

" _...if you stumble or struggle, you'll have myself, your brothers and my sons and daughters with you to help along the way."_

Kay and Whitebeard's words echo in his ears, stop his poisonous thoughts cold in their tracks, keeps them at bay like nothing else. It's steadying, grounding, ringing with truth...

 _Right. Okay._

Sabo takes a breath, and repeats their words like a mantra in his head for the rest of the journey back to the docks. If either Izo or Haruta notice his silence, they don't bring it up, leaving him to it.

By the time they make it to the ship, Thatch's group already there and waiting, Sabo feels...better. Lighter. Even when Ace notices the congealed blood along his bruising cheek, ready to head back out there and 'burn a bitch to ashes' (Luffy got hiccups laughing so hard), Sabo feels warmth in his chest where ice once resided, piercing doubt melted away in the warm light of reassurance.

He feels good, he decides as the pirates go below decks to settle in for the night as the curfew looms ever closer, the seven of them eating dinner together in the close quarters of the cabin, daylight dying behind the curtain of stars and the endless sea.

He feels good, he thinks as he tucks Luffy in, wrapping the boy up completely in blankets – "So you can't escape," he teases, and is rewarded by a giggling, wriggling worm of a twelve-year-old, head just peaking through the folds, their older brother smothering laughter.

He feels good, he thinks as he spins another fantastic tale for his baby brother, one that draws even the Whitebeard's in with rapturous silence, until his eyes droop and he's lost to the realm of waking, snoring quietly in his cocoon of blankets; Ace settles down behind the pre-teen, throwing an arm over him as he too drifts off, leaving Sabo awake amid snoring sailors and the gentle rocking of waves beneath their little ship.

He feels good, Sabo thinks...but not good enough.

Kay's act brought something to light for Sabo. She's young, about his age, has no reason to even think about stepping in where she doesn't belong, to stick her neck out for strangers. And yet here she is, going against the local (horrendously corrupt) law enforcement despite knowing the consequences, for the sake of one person. There was no fear, no hesitation, no doubt in her mind.

If she can do it without a second thought...what's stopping Sabo from doing the same?

What's stopping him from going out there right now, past curfew, to do something, _anything,_ to help this city unjustly ruled by those who should be _protecting_ them? What's stopping him, a fifteen-year-old with the experience, the ability, to screw around with men twice his size like he did in his days as a half-feral boy living off scraps left behind from upper-class pricks in High Town?

What's stopping him, a freed slave, from 'repaying' those who wronged them, who heard and knew their suffering and turn the other way?

The answer, as he looks around at the slumbering sailors hanging from hammocks and curled up on futons, is _nothing._

He waits it out, first. Running his fingers through Luffy's hair, listening to Ace's steady breathing, watching each of the commanders for any sign or tell of feigned sleep. Half an hour goes by, and he's the only one well and truly awake. By then, his plan is in place.

It's hair-brained at best, risky as anything, and while it might not get him killed it could very well land him in a cell, but...he can't afford to let uncertainty overrule him. Enough is enough. Why stand by when he can at least _try_? Even if this yields but little in the long run, at least he did what he could with what he has instead of nothing at all. Instead of turning the other way, bowing his head and _submitting._

(Whitebeard said he'd feel his calling, the course his life will take, when the time comes. This, Sabo thinks, might be it. This feels _right_.)

Taking a steady breath, Sabo carefully stands from Luffy and Ace's side, shrugging into his coat and boots, setting his hat, slipping his staff into the hoops along the back of his coat, and tiptoes over to Thatch's bag. It feels wrong to snoop through the commander's belongings, but it's for a good cause, or so he tells himself.

He'd seen it somewhere, he swears, peeking just through the folds of – ah! A Visual Transponder Snail. Thatch, you wonderfully convenient bastard.

Stuffing that into the folds of his coat (next to the handkerchief, washed clean of blood and grime out of sight of nosy pirates and little brothers) he then pilfers also a slip of paper and a pencil – guess Thatch really did come prepared for everything – and scribbles down a note, setting it atop Thatch's bag in clear view when the man wakes, just in case Sabo's not back by dawn. Here's hoping he will be.

With that, and a final glance over his shoulder at his brothers – Luffy's since freed himself from his cocoon and has now wrapped himself completely around an oblivious Ace, bringing a soft grin to Sabo's lips that hopelessly fond – he tiptoes up the stairs to the top deck and pauses at the railing.

He grips the wooden barrier between him and the docks, between him and his calling...between him and an act of rebellion against the Whitebeard's.

He takes a breath.

He can do this. He _has_ to. It's his calling. Whitebeard told him it would come eventually, that he should stick to it no matter the squalls. He can't ignore this, can't ignore the subjugation of this town, the fear and the injustice they suffer at the hands of their would-be protectors. He can't, when he knows their pain, feels it so keenly.

 _'I can do this.'_

With one last breath to steady him, Sabo grips the railing and vaults over it, landing in a roll across the planks, soundless. He stays in his crouch, listening close and careful for any movement from the ship, from the shadows. Nothing stirs but the gentle lapping of the sea below or the soft, cool wind. No one hears or sees him.

So far, so good.

Sabo stands, squares his shoulders, and hurries into the night without looking back.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

His plan is simple for the most part.

Sneak around after curfew, long after dark, snap some pictures of the town and it's unusual barrenness – even establishments that have rights to remain open from late in the evening to early in the morning, including bars and hotels and the like – pictures of patrolling Navy officers, heavily armed with unnecessary firearms, pictures of the base and the clock-tower in comparison to the rest of the town, and so on. Compile all of this and a detailed (strongly worded) letter, and send it to Navy Headquarters. Hopefully, they'll take it from there.

Shouldn't even be dangerous, or stress inducing in the slightest.

Sabo has _never_ been so stressed out _._

Taking refuge behind a dumpster, he waits with baited breath until the three patrolling guards march past the alley, allowing him to slip across the empty street and into the next alley. He presses himself against the wall, breathing hard, hand over his heart. Damn near got spotted. Need to be more careful, or at least hide himself better. A cloak might've come in handy, but none of the Whitebeard's had thought to bring one in case one of their young charges decided to do some late-night sneaking.

Maybe he's lost his sneaking touch. Weeks of walking freely among a ship of friends has put him a tad too much at ease. Still, in the span of half an hour, he's gathered some good shots.

And with every shot, every detestable thing he learns from his surroundings or from the gossip whispered between Marines, disgustingly excited – "That girl running the bakery this morning? Wouldn't mind sneakin' a few _goodies_ there." "Dude, ain't she a teen?" "The younger the better, right?" – he feels his rage grow hotter and hotter. A volcano boiling and toiling, ready to erupt.

Sabo spares a moment to shut his eyes, fists trembling at his sides. It's times like this he wishes for Ace's powers, to light up his fists and set this wretched world aflame.

How _dare_ they? The Navy claim to strive to bring peace and safety to every inhabited nation, to liberate the world from crime and injustice; a noble cause, truly. And yet, they allow this sort of loathsome conduct to thrive, blindly trusting others to follow their morals and grant them such power...to allow _slavery,_ child labor and abuse of the worst kinds to persist because of those with _money_ in their pockets –

He shakes himself and sighs, a ragged thing, and relaxes his fists. Can't afford to get distracted, let his rage boil over. He's got a job to do, and he's already more than a little over his head than he'd like. Rage can come later.

Settled, Sabo skirts to the edge of the alley and peeks around the corner, looking around, debating his next course; the streets are empty now, but too open to freely wander, and it's only a matter of time before someone comes looking through the alley's. He should try the rooftops. He's gotten better at climbing, much to the chagrin of the shipwrights and commanders, and the gaps between buildings aren't worryingly wide. He can easily jump it if he has to –

"Hey! What're you doing out here?!"

Sabo freezes, back fusing with the brickwork, arms in the air. ' _Oh_ _crap, oh god, oh holy mother sea I'm dead, I'm caught, I'm screwed I screwed up I'm gonna die –'_

It takes him half a minute to realize it's not him the guard is talking to. He's still very much alone in his little alley.

Arms lowering, slightly embarrassed, Sabo looks around, heart still pounding because clearly someone else is out when they shouldn't be. Sabo prays, begs whatever forces are at work that it's neither Luffy nor Ace, having noticed his absence and gone out to look for him –

"I'm sorry! I'm lost, I was looking for my uncle. H-he left my hotel and he hasn't come back, and I was worried –!"

Sabo pauses.

 _...Kay?_

He rushes back to the mouth of the alley, peeking around the corner. Sure enough, Kay is there, backed up against a wall by the very same hulking brute of a Marine that'd knocked Sabo down earlier. How bloody convenient.

But what's Kay doing out here? Looking for her uncle doesn't seem likely. And she's still carrying her basket, still in that lovely dress and heels, like she'd never gone to bed at all, or even to the hotel.

Sabo's eyes narrow. What's going on here?

The officer doesn't seem to believe her either, mulish features twisting into a sneer. "Yeah, right. You know the rules, no one outside past nine!"

Kay quivers where she stands – it certainly _looks_ real, but Sabo knows true fear when he sees it, feels it. This isn't quite it, and it strikes him as odd. Why bother with the act? They both know she's not afraid, both know she knows she's not supposed to be here, that she's lying. She starts to side-step away from the hulking man, clutching her basket close to her chest like a shield. "I'm so sorry, sir, I'll go back right now, please, I'm really sorry –"

The officer doesn't give her the chance. "Don't think so. C'mere!"

He snatches her wrist, meaty palm swallowing her tiny hand. She cries out, in pain or in (genuine) shock, it's not clear, but Sabo's heart lurches at the sound. Her basket falls to the ground, and she's nearly lifted off herself by the brute's relentless strength. She's strong, Sabo knows, but he's got the upper-hand, literally. He towers over her, and she's nearly off the ground. She kicks at his shin, but only gets an odd grunt. He's immovable. "Let go!" she growls through clenched teeth. She bashes a fist against the hand clutching hers and most of her wrist, over and over.

The officer shoves her against the wall for her troubles. She bites her lip against what might be a pained whimper, but doesn't quite succeed. The brute above her seems to take delight from this, from her pain, and it's _sick,_ so wrong and _disgusting –_

Sabo's eye twitches, one hand slowly rising, fingers wrapping around his staff.

The man looks Kay up and down once – and there's a glint in his eye, bright and horrifying, that Sabo _knows_.

It's the same glint beheld in those that ogled Ace and Mei as they danced upon a grand stage in shimmering clothing that did nothing to hide whatever 'assets' young teens could possibly have to appeal to older men or women. The same glint held in the gaze of the lewd guard that had _dared_ to put his hands on his big brother _right in front of them_.

It's there now, in the officer's eyes, as they roam over Kay's smaller form. She sees it, too, and rears back as much as she can, revolted – and there, now, is the _real_ fear leaking off her in waves as he looms closer, his new grin slow and grotesque.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, asshole?!" she growls again, rearing her other hand back in what might've been a devastating punch to the jaw had he not seized it in his much bigger palm. Both her hands restrained above her head, she kicks out furiously instead, accomplishing little, not that it stops her. "Let me _go!"_

"Don't act so surprised," he chuckles, dark and full of _intent._ "You're the one wanderin' around at night when you shouldn't be. You asked for it."

Sabo flinches.

" _Aw, don't be like that, freckles. You're the one showing yourself off in front of everyone, little slut just like her. You asked for this."_

He can't take it. He couldn't then, and he _won't stand for it_ now.

He's charging out of the alley in the next instant, staff unsheathed, vision a haze of blistering red. The officer has only half a second to look over his shoulder before Sabo's staff comes down on his head with an echoing _CRACK!_ The brute cries out, rearing back and staggering, and releases Kay. She lands on her feet, eyes bugged wide and staring at the boy standing between her and the degenerate, breaths sharp and shallow, fingers clenched tight around his wooden weapon.

Outwardly, he stands tall and steady in the pale glow of the moon hanging high, staff held out before him, eyes fixed solely on his new opponent, ready to finally act on the fury boiling in his gut. Inwardly, he's shaking like a leaf, screaming and cursing wildly at himself –

 _What the hell am I doing?!_

The one-sided screaming match worsens when the officer rights himself, meaty hand massaging the growing welt on the back of his head as he slowly turns to face Sabo. Dark eyes are murderous, the deep base of his voice rumbling like thunder – "What the hell do you think you're doin', punk?" he asks, deceptively calm.

Palms sweaty, heart throbbing against his rib-cage with a fury like no other, Sabo calls upon every deity known to man and prays that he might make it out of this in one piece despite his stupidity, and clenches his staff tighter. The staff, and Kay's presence at his back are all that keeps him from crumbling where he stands.

Sparring against Whitebeard pirates is one thing; they're friends, comrades who go to hilarious though endearing lengths to ensure their safety, their joy no matter what grueling training regimes they've set for the day, who accept them – dare he say _love_ them – faults, traumas and all.

But this is a Navy officer. A man who, on this island, has every right to beat him within an inch of his life, to throw him in a cell and let him rot, to assault a young girl in the middle of the street, and face no consequence.

Worse still, Sabo had dealt the first blow. He has no reason to hold back at all.

For a while now, Sabo has been itching for a challenge, something to really push him to his limits, get his blood pumping the way beating up thugs and robbing nobles had, something to test his new skills. This...isn't at all what he'd asked for. But he'd started this fight. He'd let his anger boil over the edge, acted out, and now he's to face the consequence. Finish what he'd started.

 _'I won't cower. I won't submit. I'm strong now. I can do this...right?'_

"...leave her alone," he tries for a growl, but it hitches. He swallows thickly, squaring his shoulders and readjusting his hold on his staff. ' _I can do this I can do this I can do this'._ "S-She told you no, she didn't mean to be out so late. Y-You have no right to put your hands on her! Leave her alone!"

Silence.

The officer looks at Sabo, sizing the teen up. Sabo stares back, ignoring the sheen of sweat gathering along his brow, ignoring Kay's eyes boring holes into his back, ignoring the voices screeching like banshees in his ears – _you shouldn't have come you should've stayed on the ship you idiot you NEVER break the rules and now you're going to die you_ **always** _mess things up –_

Then the Marine smiles, a truly vicious thing like that of a drooling wolf cornering a cowering rodent. "I remember you," he drawls lazily. He takes a step closer. Sabo shuffles half a step back. The larger man smirks. "Tryin' to be a hero, huh? Like ya hadn't pissed yourself like a baby and little miss back there had to save ya? Hilarious!"

Sabo grits his teeth. ' _Don't listen to him. He's riling you up, you're stronger than this, don't listen –'_

The officer swings before Sabo can blink, a giant fist bashing against his temple.

Kay cries out, and maybe Sabo does too, but his ears are ringing, brain rattling inside his skull. He blinks, and he's flat on the ground again, blood dripping from his temple and his nose where his face smashed the pavement. His hat merrily rolls to a stop at Kay's feet, and a larger foot stomps down on Sabo's staff, shattering it in two.

 _Oh hell._

Stomach churning with nausea, the world spinning around him, Sabo can only sluggishly climb to his hands and knees, head down, shoulders bowed, fighting a losing battle with the urge to hurl. Blood drips onto the cobblestone. Above him, the officer laughs. "See? _Hilarious!"_ he jeers.

Sabo doesn't look up, can't, but he can imagine the grin on the man's face; smug, wicked, twisting ugly features – no different to the servants that mocked them, the guards that _touched_ them, the Princess that giggled and taunted as she dragged his baby brother about by a leash, the King that bought them, the parents that _sold_ him...

He can feel them now, their shadows looming over him, all of them grinning and pointing and laughing, looking down on him like the failure he is, the weakling he's become in the face of everything he loathes, like they own him, like he's nothing, nothing but a means to an end, a _tool_ , _property._ And all he can do, all he's ever done, is bow his head and beg and plead and obey obey _obey_ _ **obey**_ –

 _'Nothing's changed. Nothing's changed for me at all. Whitebeard was wrong. I can't do this. What the hell was I thinking...?'_

"Now, I _might_ be willin' to let ya off the hook, just this once," the man lies – like hell he won't beat him and Kay to hell and back just for the fun of it. "But I think an apology is in order here. I mean, ya _did_ just assault an officer on duty. I tell the higher ups you had a change of heart, they might go easy on ya! All ya gotta do is say you're sorry!"

Sabo blinks. Stares at the specks of blood on the ground. The voices, the shadows of his past flicker around him, voices ebbing, stubborn in their efforts to linger.

He wants an apology. Wants Sabo to bow his head on his hands and knees and beg for mercy. To do as he's told. Submit to him, to them and their rule, to the flag they wave so proudly knowing what power it gives them, power they have no right to wield.

Just like nobles. Just like the royalty _back there._ Just like his own mother and father before they'd sold him.

He feels his eye twitch, feels an itch where the scar sits over the ruined, pale hue of his left eye.

Before, acquiescence came to him as easy as breathing; a desperate endeavor to bargain for his life, for his brothers, that always worked, always brought a satisfied grin to those standing above him. Anything otherwise was never an option, nothing but a ticket to a night of torture or an early grave.

But now... _now..._

Sabo's fingers dig into the cobblestone and curl into fists, bones grinding and cracking, nails biting into the flesh. He grits his teeth against a truly feral snarl, mismatched eyes ablaze. The shadows flicker again, voices mute.

He is...so _**sick.**_

He's _sick_ of letting people like this waste of flesh walk over him, mock and laugh and scorn him like they own the world and everyone in it, like they have any right to call themselves rulers, _gods_. He's _**tired**_ of apologizing for everything like he or someone else will die if he doesn't, tired of ducking his head and watching others suffer, tired of standing by and doing _nothing_ when he can and should do _something_ no matter the risk, no matter if he's _scared._

The shadows flicker once more and finally vanish in a cloud of smoke, like they were never there at all. The voices fade with them, and the new silence is blissful.

He can't stand by. He _won't_ stand by. He won't bow or bend or break, never again, to anyone. He doesn't have to – he's stronger now than he ever was. They all are. He doesn't have to fight for them, protect them from every little thing. His brothers can fight their own battles now, chase their own dreams. As he should. He can and he _will_.

And he's not alone.

(It's funny, thinking it through, how little faith he really has in the Whitebeard's that he'd thought for a second they wouldn't burn this place to the ground for him. Stupid, to allow his pride and lack of worth to drown out the vow Whitebeard had made to him, the faith the Strongest Man in the World has in _him,_ sixteen-year-old Sabo.)

No more. He's had enough.

 _I'm through._

Sabo lifts his head, gaze locking with the man above him. His eyes _burn_ through the officer, an anger he's never felt before spreading through him like wildfire. It brings a _smile_ to the boy's lips that must look as twisted as it feels – and Sabo _relishes_ in it.

This is what he's wanted. What he's _craved._ What he has to do to break another link in his chain.

 _I'm_ _ **through**_ _._

The man must see it, feel every ounce of rage pouring from the incompatible eyes of a teenager, for the smug grin slips right off his truly unfortunate features in the next instant, like he's seeing Sabo for the first time. In a way, he really is.

He takes a breath –

"I. Am. _**THROUGH**_ being sorry _GODDAMMIT!"_

Sabo _lurches_ to his feet, vertigo and dripping crimson be thrice damned, and it's the officer who steps back now, bewildered. About damned time, too.

"Whu – what the –?" he stammers, but Sabo is not _done._

"The only thing I'm gonna be _sorry_ for –" He clenches a fist, something new and _hot_ like iron wrapping around the exposed flesh; he ignores it in favour of staring this prick down, putting him in his place at last "– is for whoever has to clean up the mess after I _**bash your face in!"**_

He pulls his fist back, and he slugs the bastard in the jaw.

Behind him, Kay gasps again as the man goes _flying_ across the barren street, crashing into the trash cans and bags in the opposite alley. He's sprawled in the garbage, covered in it and groaning, blood gushing from his lips and nose. He doesn't get up, twitching where he lies in an undignified heap.

Sabo, panting hard, fist raised and _steaming_ , stands tall. The voices that once shrieked at him are silent, the shadows that once haunted and jeered all but gone.

 _That felt_ _ **good**_ _._

Then he blinks, looks down at his hand. It's...it's _black,_ shining in the moonlight, _literally_ steaming from the blow. He blinks again, flames cooling and sputtering out, leaving him breathless and stumped. He watches, transfixed and confused, as the black sheen fades back into the natural hue of his skin, though red around the knuckles.

That's...that's not normal.

"Whoa."

He turns, holding his now throbbing fist in the other hand, facing Kay. She's smiling at him now, something akin to pride and surprise glittering in the deep blue of her eyes. It's a grin Sabo wobbly returns – the adrenaline is fading now, leaving him a little boneless and aching from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder. The ringing in his ears isn't quite so loud, but it's there and it hurts, much like the rest of him. The desire to sleep crosses his mind, but he knows better than that, and would rather not pass out in front of the girl he'd damn near got himself killed to help, so –

"Yeah," he breathes. "I, uh...didn't know I could do that."

Her smile widens with a soft chuckle as she leans down, sweeping his hat off the ground and stepping closer. Sabo is slightly dazzled, but dutifully leans down when she beckons him forward with a finger, plopping his hat back on his slightly bloody curls – a perfect reprise of earlier this evening. Sabo might've grinned, might've offered a witty quip, were it not for the wince that squeaks passed his lips instead.

Oh yeah, he'd been bashed in the face literally minutes ago. And his nose is kind of clogged with blood, still. God, he must be a sight.

"God, you're a sight," Kay says, because of course she does, but she's still smiling, so he can forgive her.

Bumping up the rim of his hat up a tad, he looks her up and down and cracks a tired smirk. "Yeah, well, you're one to talk," he shoots right back, waving a hand at her rumpled dress, white heels stained with dirt, hair askew and wrists raw from grappling, dirty hands.

She looks down at herself, considering, and then shrugs. "Fair," she concedes.

"Are you okay though? That bastard could've really..."

"Yeah, yeah I'll be fine. And you're right, he could've, so..." Kay shrugs again, feigning carelessness – the relief in her gaze is tangible, as is the lingering fear of what could've been, what _would've_ been if Sabo hadn't stepped in. "Thanks for the save. Really put that son of a bitch in his place."

And yeah, he did. He really did, didn't he?

He looks over his shoulder at the mess of trash and limbs on the other side of the street, and can't quite fight the satisfied grin that creeps along his features, still there when he turns back to Kay and shrugs, feeling bolder, _better_. "Well, someone had to. Besides, you saved my ass earlier, so –" He takes a page from Thatch's book and gestures himself, cocky grin, bloodied face and all " – here's me returning the favor."

She smirks, folding her arms. "And you're even bloodier than then, too."

"What d'you mean? 'S just my nose and my head. 'Tis but a scratch."

"And a concussion if you're slurring." Kay steps back to fish through her pocket, shaking her head in what might be fondness, which is odd for a boy she's just met. Then again, Ace was more or less the same. Kay and Ace might just get along, or maybe Sabo is just as meddlesome as Luffy. "Guess we'll never cross paths without one of us needing – hm?" Kay pauses for half a beat, digs deep in both pockets, brows furrowed in confusion. "What – that's funny. I thought I'd – I swear I put it in here..." she mutters under her breath.

Sabo watches her fumble about, and then he remembers.

She pauses mid action when he whips out her handkerchief, holding it out before her. She blinks once, twice, and looks up to meet his smile, which widens at her look. "You forgot this," he says. "I would've given it back sooner if I knew where you were staying. Washed the blood off too, so it's good as new." He beckons her forward. She tilts her head, brow raised, but she does so. He then plops the fabric on her head instead of her outstretched hand, as she'd done her hat, his grin a wide and unforgivably cheeky thing. "There."

She stands there, stunned. Her eyes are wide as she stares at him under the fabric, hair askew and dress rumpled. He stares back, still grinning and aching and bleeding a little.

They smirk in unison, and then they're giggling uncontrollably.

Perhaps the adrenaline has yet to really wear off, or maybe Sabo is actually that funny. Whatever the case, once they've started, they can't seem to stop, breathless and silly.

Really, they're quite the sight. Two rumpled and bloody teenagers out after dark, illegally, giggling over nothing after having been attacked and then attacking and _beating_ a Navy officer, in the middle of the street in a quiet little town. Lord knows the helpless romantics of the Whitebeard's – ahem Thatch Izo and Rakuyo, shameless bastards ahem – would never let him live this down, never let him forget it.

(Sabo finds he wouldn't mind that. Injuries aside, this just might be one of the best nights of his life.)

" _What the hell –?!"_

They freeze, laughter silenced, ice settling in Sabo's veins.

 _Good feeling's gone._

They both whirl, and Sabo's heart drops in his chest at the sight of five or so Navy officers standing at the mouth of the street, gawking at the two teens gawking right back at them. The men blink, turn to their larger comrade sprawled in the trash, bloody and dead to the world, and then back to the teens – back to _Sabo._

Sabo gulps as the men's features twist into ugly snarls. _Oh hell._

"You there!" the man at the head of the group calls, stomping forward. "You're under arrest for breaking curfew and assaulting an officer! Let me see your hands!"

Unconsciously, Sabo is about to do just that, arms already halfway raised. But Kay has other ideas.

Stuffing her handkerchief into her pocket, she grabs his throbbing right hand _(ouch!),_ and with a hissed "Come on!" she turns on her heel, tugging a squawking Sabo with her. With no other choice but to follow, Sabo lets her haul him along.

"What – where are we going?!" he cries, stumbling along, but doesn't pull his hand back – for one, it aches like a bitch, and two, her hand is soft and cool like a balm, and an anchor that keeps the worst of his panic at bay despite the sudden insanity he's found himself in.

Kay doesn't look at him. "No idea. Just away."

"Are you kidding me?!"

"What, would you rather get arrested?"

" _No,_ but how is running aimlessly away any better?!"

He can hear the guards behind them now, giving chase, hollering and cursing them, demanding they stop where they are. The teens turn a sharp corner, delving into another narrow alleyway that they're forced to side step through, hopping clumsily over trash bags and barrels and what Sabo half swears is a rat nest, dear _lord._ Worse still, the lack of space hasn't impeded nor dissuaded the Marines from keeping up the chase, calling for _reinforcements –_

"We're gonna die," Sabo deadpans. "I punched a Marine in the face and now we're gonna die. We're dead."

Kay turns to look at him over her shoulder, ignoring the indignant roar of the Marines as they charge for them, and she beams, so achingly reminiscent of Luffy that it's a near instant comfort despite everything, chases away the uncertainty. And somehow, he knows what she's going to say before she opens her mouth – "They'll have to catch us, first."

He blinks at her. Her hand gives his another squeeze as she turns back to the mouth of the alley, the pair exploding out of it and into the open streets once more. The Marines, one or two more than before being lured by the commotion, are hot on their tails.

Slowly but surely, Sabo finds himself grinning wider and wider, feet pounding on the cobblestone to match her sprint.

 _'Now this feels familiar,'_ he muses, finally laughing out loud. Kay laughs with him as they turn a sharp corner, skidding along the pavement and dashing into another alley. His hand squeezes hers despite the ache, she squeezes back, grinning fit to burst, their faces flushed with glee and exertion –

And suddenly he's back in High-town, dashing through the streets with Luffy and Ace on either side of him, bellies and pockets full, angry bakers and policemen cursing the day they were born, the three of them grinning wide and free in the afterglow of another successful day.

" _That was too close, dude! Think that officer nicked your shirt, Ace!"_

" _Nah, he ain't got nothin' on me – Luffy, quit laughing!"_

" _He will soon! They'll probably skin us alive!"_

" _Well, they'll actually have to catch us first! Pick up the pace, Lu!"_

" _I'm comin'! Wait for me!"_

It was what he'd needed, dreamed and wanted for so long back then – the rush of the wind against his face, the feeling of freedom, mischief and love for the only two people in the world who truly _knew_ him – and he feels it here and now, turning a small town into a maze for enraged Marines, side by side with a stranger that matches his grin. _And_ he's just punched a Marine in the face, all in one night!

 _What a lovely, lovely night!_

It almost turns sour when they're trapped on both sides, two groups of breathless officers converging on them from the exits of the alley. They grin at the pair in equal parts success and satisfaction; Sabo can feel their intent, their lust for blood merely for the sake of it, for the fun, as they draw closer and closer.

Once upon a time, that would have cowed Sabo, have him on his knees. Now, fear is the last thing on his mind. He turns to his new friend – and he supposes they're friends now, if the way she meets his gaze is telling at all – and asks, "You any good at climbing?"

"The best," Kay replies. He doesn't ask how or why – those questions can be answered later.

For now, he nods. "Cool. Get climbing."

To say their pursuers are dumbfounded at the speed in which the teenagers scale the enclosing walls of the alley would be an understatement. Sabo has seen fly-traps with smaller maws than theirs as their jaws hit the floor, eyes bugged wide. They really hadn't anticipated this, and it's wonderfully glorious. He cackles as he and Kay flip over the edge and land on the rooftop.

"Get back down here, you brats!" one hollers over the clamoring of his complaining colleagues as they somehow manage to squish themselves within the tight space with little hope of escape. "We'll have your hides for this!"

Sabo can't help it. This is the best he's felt in years, the happiest he's been in days, and he can't possibly leave these hapless fools without a parting gift to thank them for this night. "Might I suggest a counter offer instead, my good sir?" he says. He lets them stare at him expectantly, and then flips the lot of them a double bird. The indignant squalling intensifies.

Sabo and Kay step back from the edge, breathless with laughter and dizzy with adrenaline still pumping through them, desperate for release. The blond casts his eyes across the rooftop and the rooftops beyond, all with minor gaps between them. It'll be child's play to cross them, and more fun to keep the Marines on the run like headless chickens a little while longer.

He turns to Kay, and finds he doesn't even need to ask. The glimmer in her eyes is answer enough. "Race you?" he asks instead.

She beams. "You're on."

And when they clear the first gap, and the next one and the next one, laughing bright and clear in the midnight gloom, Sabo forgets his fears and doubts, forgets the shadows that once conquered him. He disregards the consequences, ignores his throbbing head and fingers, and for a little while, he lets himself feel like a ten-year-old again.

For a little while, Sabo lets himself feel _alive_ again.

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N~ Hey guys! THANK YOU SO MUCH for your reviews on the last chapter, seriously so encouraging! And to those who've just caught up or started, thank you so much for your support, it means so much to me you have no idea.** **ALSO DID ANYONE READ THE LATEST ONE PIECE CHAPTER BECAUSE...HOLY HELL. THIS CHANGES _EVERYTHING!_**

 **The final word count for this is 10,121, shorter than my last chapter but still a lot XD I had to split it in two, believe it or not, because some of you are saying the pacing is a little slow and I'm trying to speed things up a little, more so now considering we're SO CLOSE to Sabaody and a huge tipping point in the story for our boys, but at the same time I don't wanna go too quick. Let things play out steady, if that makes sense :)**

 **Also, I have an announcement. Due to my brain not being able to shut up about anything for five seconds, this story is officially getting a SEQUEL! It won't be as long, following our boys through certain points in the One Piece canon with minor changes due to their background, but it's coming! It's all thanks to you guys and your unending support that this is happening, and I hope you stick around for the next adition coming soon :)**

 **A few mentions before we start:**

 **OtamaOP - Thank you dear!**

 **rynn - Hell to the yes! Badass Sabo is nigh! Thanks for the review, hon 3**

 **CanIHaveAHug - I read all your reviews and EEEEEE! YOU KILL ME WITH YOUR KINDNESS MY DEAR! I wish you all the best of luck with your own writing too!**

 **Typhlosion8 - Thank you SO much! I'm a sucker for these kinds of stories too, tbh XD**

 **AnotherGenericNerd - I'm proud of them, too! Just you wait, you'll be even more proud in a few chapter from now. Ehehehe...**

 **SakuraS41 - Gotta love the two of the Revolutionary Trio! Thanks for the review, hon!**

 **Llama - I think you'll find Thatch's reaction a little...different, my dear XD Thanks for the review!**

 **Andy - I live for your reviews, honestly, you make me grin XD I seriously can't wait to show you what else I have in store for these boys...good _and_ bad, hehehehehehe**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - I'm gad you enjoyed it! I think you'll love this chapter too!**

 **VisitorNo.18 - Bwahahaha, thanks so much!**

 **Kohumi - Koala and Sabo are just the cutest, aren't they? Whether you ship 'em or not XD**

 **Jennifer - Y'all better stop feeding my ego like this or you'll have Loki 2.0 up in here yelling for you to KNEEEEEL! XD thank you so much for the review**

 **Taihooo - Lordy, your review makes me smile! As for the crew learning more about the boys, I'm sure they'll open upp eventually. I do have at least two heart to hearts geared up for Ace and Luffy *winkwink***

 **Sorry I couldn't reply to all of you, but you're all a joy and wonder forever :')**

 **With that, on with the chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 25**

The first thing Luffy notices when he's stirred awake is that he needs to pee.

The second thing he notices is that it's pitch dark out, probably the middle of the night, the commanders are snoring and curled up in their bunks and hammocks, and Ace is half squishing Luffy under the protective arm thrown over his chest. The heat emanating off his older brother's body is a comfortable one, a reassuring presence Luffy would never know what to do without.

That's why the third thing he notices is how bare and cold it is on his other side where Sabo usually is.

Prying Ace's arm off his chest, Luffy sits up with a muffled yawn and wipes the slither of drool off his cheek and chin, eyes half-lidded and dreary with stubborn remnants of sleep. He looks down at where Sabo should be, confused but not yet concerned when he finds the spot vacant. Maybe he's gone up to pee, too. But when he shifts to his knees, hands pressing against the bare floorboards to steady his sleepy self, it really is _cold._ Like no one's been here at all.

Luffy's brows furrow, head tilting so far that he nearly topples over. That's weird. Surely Sabo hasn't been gone that long.

Scrubbing the sleep from his eyes and blinking away the crustiness, Luffy pricks his ears and listens hard, cocking his head slightly to the right. The ship gently rocks on tranquil waters, creaking quietly. The pirates sleep on, some snoring, and Ace mutters something unintelligible in his sleep as he rolls over onto his other side, taking half the blanket with him. The night is silent outside, save for the odd chirping cricket or lapping water against wood. Nothing disturbs the top deck. No footsteps, no voices. No presence at all.

Luffy blinks again, fully awake. Dread pools in his stomach.

The deck is empty. Sabo's not here.

But why did he leave? Where did he go without telling them? Did someone _take_ him – no, no way the Whitebeard's would sleep through that, nor would Sabo; Luffy knows his brother, knows he would fight any intruder attempting to grab him tooth and nail, snarling and shouting, waking the whole cabin. There wouldn't be anything left of the intruder come morning, and that's if Ace doesn't get to them first.

So, Sabo hasn't been taken. That's a comfort, settles Luffy's nerves some.

He's just – gone. Left.

But _why_? Luffy can't wrap his head around it, sitting cross-legged on the floor, arms folded, brows pinched. They've been warned against going off on their own on unfamiliar islands – wait, that's all of them – they've been warned against going off on their own _period._ Luffy's last two excursions have taught them well enough (though one of them had turned out _great),_ and there's some dumb curfew until later in the morning. Sabo knows this, knows that it might be dangerous, and despite the mischief he gets up to sometimes with the rest of them he _is_ that little bit more responsible, so _why –?_

He finally notices it. A note, sat innocently on Thatch's pack, which has clearly been sifted through.

Curious, Luffy crawls over on his hands and knees, plucking the note off the pack. He's gotten much better at reading thanks to Sabo and Vista, but he still stumbles over a few of the hastily scribbled words in Sabo's habitually cursive handwriting, squinting in the darkness.

 _'Got too warm, decided to sleep on the top deck. I'll be fine, just wake me up for breakfast._

 _Sabo.'_

Luffy stares at the note.

...well, _that's_ a lie.

He moves to set the note back where he found it, considers for a moment, before shrugging and shoving it into his mouth instead, swallowing. A dumb thing to do, but he was hungry anyway. And paper is surprisingly not bad.

Luffy stands, stretching an arm across the way to pluck his hat off the blankets next to Ace, plopping it on his head and tip-toeing up the stairs to the top deck. No one stirs at his departure, and he reaches the banister at the starboard bow without incident, barefoot and in only a yellow t-shirt and blue pj shorts, cutesy of Izo.

It's chillier now than it was with sun out and blazing, nothing at all like the island prior, scorching all through the day and night without letup. Luffy loves the sun, loves and craves its warmth now more than ever, but he doesn't mind the odd nights like these. Like the autumn nights back on Dawn; just cold enough to warrant bundling up in long sleeves, blankets and cuddling the nearest brother regardless of half-hearted protests.

He gazes out at the sleeping town, illuminated by the full moon hanging overhead. He can hear the faint chirp of crickets, the softest glow of what might be fireflies in the distant fields. It's peaceful, the breeze soft and lulling.

And yet, Luffy can feel agitation leaking into the air from multiple presences. Confusion, a hint or two of pain...and perhaps a dash of elation, all from deep within the center of town.

Sabo's nowhere to be seen, not from here. But Luffy can _feel_ his big brother, wherever he is. Amid the quiet torrent of anger and spite seeping into the night, there's not a speck of fear where it would no doubt be reeking wherever Sabo might be. No, all Luffy can feel is his brother's _joy._

Wherever he is, whatever he's doing, Sabo is okay. And he's _happy._

Luffy beams to himself, allowing a giggle that's lost to the breeze. There's no need to worry. Sabo's not here, but he's fine, and he'll be back soon enough. Until then, Luffy might wait up for him, if only to see if he's back before the others wake up and discover his absence.

With that, Luffy lets go of the railing and quietly marches over to the stern. He still needs to pee.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Stop wriggling."

"But it hurts."

"Stop _whining_."

"But it _hurts."_

"You're impossible."

"M'not."

"You're also a baby. Just hold still, I'm nearly done."

"You said that five minutes ago."

Kay levels Sabo with a _look,_ one that's all too familiar, before returning her attention to his hand in hers, rolling bandages around the appendage. "Only because you kept squirming and complaining. Now shut up and let me work," she retorts, brows furrowed in concentration in a manner that might be cute if she wasn't so damn _mean_. Sabo pouts but relents, bouncing one leg impatiently, scanning their new, blessedly quiet surroundings in a bid for his thoughts to wander elsewhere in his restlessness.

Half an hour of racing along the rooftops, leading a horde of disgruntled Marines on the wildest of goose chases, Sabo and Kay eventually shook them off to take refuge behind stacks of flour and barrels until the coast was clear. They didn't linger there long, and Kay led them instead to a secluded children's park dipping low at the foot of a hill near the edge of the forest. Once they'd gotten their breaths back and their laughter under control, Kay sat them down on the nearest bench and offered to tend to Sabo's injuries. They're minor at best, but Kay would have none of his arguing, literally grappling him until he parked his arse down like a good boy and let her have her way, starting off with wiping the blood off his face and checking for bumps under his curls.

She might be small, but damn if she isn't mighty.

And she's right; it doesn't hurt nearly as much as he's letting on, nothing compared to what he's suffered _before,_ but he'll bitch about it anyway, because he's never been a good patient unless he's unconscious or doped as hell. He has a reputation to uphold.

(And because Kay's cheeks puff out like a chipmunk when she's frustrated, and it's stupidly cute.)

Tucking the stray piece of bandage into the folds by Sabo's wrist, she lets him go with a dramatic flourish that's wholly teasing and exasperated. "There, _now_ I'm done. How'd you feel?"

Sabo flexes his fingers one by one, curling them into a fist, careful not to dislodge all of Kay's hard work lest she seize him again. "Pretty good. Thanks," he says with a smile.

Kay returns it brightly for all that she'd threatened to pinch him for his squabbling. "No problem," she says, and leans back on the bench, hands bracing the smooth wood. She snickers, tips her head sideways to look at him. "Well, that was fun, wasn't it?"

Sabo snickers back, rising to his feet with all the grace of a swan and twirling on a booted heel to face her, smirking at her raised brow prompted by his showiness. "If you think getting chased by an angry horde of Marines is fun," he walks backwards over to the set of swings and sits on one, gripping the chains and swinging back and forth, "then you have a problem."

Kay sticks her tongue at him, but she's grinning too as she stands and hops over to the swing next to his, kicking off to a steady rhythm. "Don't even try to pin this on me. You were laughing as much as I was, and _way_ louder," she retorts.

"Yeah, well _you're_ the one who started the chase." Sabo swings higher. Kay's grin widens at the challenge and kicks her legs harder, matching his height.

"So you _would_ rather we'd gotten arrested?" she probes.

"I'm just saying I'm not the only criminal here, Miss 'I forgot the curfew was nine but not really'," he teases, hitching his voice an octave higher to mimic her, earning him an unladylike snort. "But seriously? Is that the _best_ you could think of? You're an awful liar."

"Shut up! What was I supposed to say?"

 _'The truth, maybe,'_ he almost says, but he's quick to hold his tongue.

But the thought lingers, and it's now that he really starts to wonder. It occurred to him at first only in passing, why she was out here so late at night, why she'd attempted to lie her way out of trouble. Obviously, if Sabo were in the same situation, he'd spin a pretty lie that would ultimately fail, leaving him little choice but to run. But Kay, until the bastard officer had shown his true colors – far uglier than the exterior, if that was even possible – had no reason to lie. Not unless she was hiding something.

It's none of his business. Or it wouldn't be, if he hadn't rushed in half-cocked and made it his business.

Sabo lets himself slow down, smile dwindling but not yet gone as he regards her. Kay watches him in kind, and soon they're both sitting still, hanging inches above the ground, bracing the chains. Sabo tilts his head. "Why are you out here, for real?" he asks, deciding against skirting the edges any longer. "You're not from here, and you're not some civilian either, if you can sprint and jump across rooftops in two inch heels and a frilly dress the way you do. So what's up?"

Kay looks at him. Sabo stares back.

Then Kay smiles, a small thing that doesn't quite reach her eyes, turns away from him to cast her eyes over the line of trees. Sabo follows her gaze, and scowls when it falls on the Navy base, an unconscious reflex. It's far enough that it doesn't quite tower over them like it had back in the marketplace, but it's a horrid stain all the same against the backdrop of an otherwise beautiful night sky.

"That building," Kay says softly, "is pretty ugly, isn't it?"

She hasn't answered his question, but he'll play along for now. "You can say that again," he mutters with a shrug. "Really puts a damper on the scenery."

(This town has charm in its humility; nothing about it is overly grand, nor is it polluted or neglected in areas where some might not be as well off. The land is tended to with care and attention. The people are friendly and thrive in relative peace, the climate damn near perfect if not a little chilly for a Spring island. But underneath all that...it's almost no different than the place they grew up _before_ they were ripped from it. The base certainly doesn't help.

 _'Beautiful on the outside, but with those on top profiting on the quiet suffering of the people they're supposed to protect.'_

It churns Sabo's stomach something awful. Makes him wan to hurt someone, break something. _Burn_ something until not even ashes remain. Makes him slightly envious of Ace's power for all that flames still haunt his dreams.)

Kay's soft chuckle brings him back to the present. His face must be an open book, for when he faces her, her eyes are bright, her smile _knowing_ if not a little penitent. She watches him a moment longer, searching his face, his eyes. Whatever she finds must appease her – like he's passed a test of sorts. What test that is and why, Sabo has no idea, and probably never will.

Kay settles back against the swing, scuffing her heel against the dirt. "I guess I can tell you the truth, then," she says, fiddling with the chain on her left in what might be a nervous gesture. Regardless, she doesn't avert her gaze from his. Sabo leans forward, heart thrumming.

"Well, for starters, my name's not Kay. It's Koala. Kay is...like a code-name, I guess."

Sabo blinks. Whatever he'd been expecting...this wasn't quite it.

Koala. Her _real_ name. Sabo rolls it about in his brain, whispers it under his breath, testing it. It's...kinda cute. Suits her much better than 'Kay' did, actually. But if 'Kay' is just a code-name...

He raises a brow, decidedly unimpressed. "You seriously used the first letter of your name as a code-name," he drones. Kay – _Koala,_ blinks at him in surprise, as if however she'd expected him to react, this wasn't it. Guess they're on the same page. "You really couldn't think of anything cooler or, I dunno, less _obvious?"_

Koala pouts, cheeks puffed out and everything like she's trying to be intimidating. It's wretchedly funny. "Well _excuse_ me, I thought it was fine," she mutters. "I mean, it's not like I'm known to the world at all, least of all this tiny island. Who's gonna call me out on it?"

"I am, right now," Sabo says. "There're, like, a _billion_ names in the world you could've chosen, and you chose _Kay._ And you're a terrible liar! What kind of super secret spy are you?!"

"A much better one than _you_ , Mr 'I'm gonna go save a girl and get my ass kicked like an idiot'," Koala snaps right back, but her words lack bite and her sun-kissed cheeks dimple with her smile. "And who says I'm a super secret spy?"

Sabo grins back. "Uh, you did? Just now. 'Like an idiot', I might add. And at least _this_ idiot _did_ save you _and_ punched the lights outta that bastard..." He pauses, considering, and then concedes, " _after_ kind of getting my ass kicked. Give me that, at least."

Koala throws her head back in a cackle, and it's not long before Sabo's following suit, both of them in danger of falling over and luring any lurking officers nearby. It's Koala who shushes them first through a giddy smile, and soon they simmer down.

Sabo swings gently back and forth. "So," he sighs. "You're a spy. Who're you spying for?"

"That, I can't tell you," Koala says, looking up at the half moon floating in the starlit ocean. She starts to swing, no more than a few inches off the ground. "All I _can_ say is...well, my friends and I have had our eye on this place for a little while."

"May I hazard a guess as to why?" Sabo asks dryly. Doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together, not after what he's seen and heard, what she's already telling him with her gaze alone before she once more averts it to the stars, glittering even as night begins to give way for the soft watercolors of dawn.

(It's only amid this silence that Sabo realizes that he's seeing Koala truly for the first time. Not through any sort of lens or front she'd put up. No dumb code names or false personas. Now that he knows, perhaps she deems there's no point in hiding, for the most part.

It's nice. He honestly prefers brash, playfully abrasive Koala than soft spoken, deceptively innocent 'Kay'.)

"That obvious, huh?" Koala snorts. "My boss decided to send some of us here to get a sense of what we're dealing with before we make our move. Sad to say that it's nothing we haven't already seen, so I wager we'll be done here pretty soon."

That gives Sabo pause. He digs his heels into the dirt to halt his swinging and faces her proper. "What do you mean 'nothing you haven't already seen'?" he asks. Koala shuffles to a stop, too, expression is carefully blank. But Sabo can feel her ire keenly, merging with his disbelief and the quiet rumble of anger deep in his chest. "You mean..."

Koala stares straight ahead, at something only she is privy to. A time long gone, perhaps, or whatever it is that might haunt her, drove her to pursue this path of secrecy she now walks.

Eventually – "Do you remember what it felt like," she says, so soft that Sabo strains to hear, "when you left home for the first time? When you set sail, looked out at the big, blue sea all around you thinking 'the world is _so_ much bigger than my little island'?"

 _'...not really.'_ Sabo thinks, a twitch in his fingertips around the linked chains of his swing.

Sabo's thoughts were... _different_ when they first 'set sail'. And the view within the confines of a dank, dirty brig in the bowels of a rocking ship wasn't quite so grand. Not when you're pressed against several other bodies, bound in chains, fighting to keep your cries at bay for the sake of the terrified, sobbing seven-year-old burying his face into your chest, your other hand clenched tight in the sweaty palm of your older brother fighting to keep it together. Not when you duck your head and squeeze your eyes shut and pray, _beg_ the stars and the powers that be that you might wake up from this nightmare, only to open your eyes to the hopeless truth of your new reality.

...then he remembers what it felt like when they'd stepped out onto the deck of a pirate ship five years later, gazing out at the sea sparkling in the morning sun like diamonds, the wind in his hair, sea-salt air filling his lungs and nostrils. It was a feeling like no other, a feeling he'll never take for granted even as he lives it day after day. It's what they _should've_ felt when they set out on their own terms, hopes high and their dreams well within reach.

So Sabo lets himself smile, a small, soft thing – "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Koala looks at him briefly and returns the smile, tinged with a sort of sadness he honestly doesn't expect, but it's gone in the next instant. "Me too," she says. "I was only little when I left the first time, about...eleven, I think. I remember the first island we docked at, looking at all these people I didn't know, the buildings and the clothes and the culture. Remember thinking to myself, 'these people all have different lives than me. Different stories to share, different ways of living. And this is just _one_ island!'"

She chuckles to herself. "I was amazed. Young and naive and no clue about how _big_ this world really is. I also realized...we might be different, some might have it better or worse, but we still face the same problems every day. I could share the exact same experiences with someone on the other side of the world and never know about it. Crazy to think about, sometimes humbling, even funny."

Sabo then watches as Koala's smile dips until it all but vanishes. Her grip tightens around the chains.

"But at the same time," she says, "it can be the saddest thing. The scariest thing. The _worst_ thing, to know that hundreds of people somewhere in the world, no matter their race or religion or color, might be _suffering_ the exact same way. People like the ones who live here, under the corrupt jurisdiction of those who're supposed to protect them, forced to live in fear under a two-faced system and can't do _anything_ about it, and the ones in power that can just _won't_ , don't until it's too late or make up _stupid_ excuses..."

Koala bites off a snarl, but only just, her fingers squeezing the chains hard enough to leave grooves in the _metal_.

Sabo _feels_ his heart stutter, eyes blown wide, because she _knows._ She _understands,_ feels the same way he does so passionately that she's shaking with it.

Koala has, in one way or another, suffered at the hands of a corrupt system. Perhaps not directly, but clearly she found no justice, no true peace for whatever happened. Just like Sabo and his brothers...

Sabo almost offers his hand, but thinks better of it and pulls away. She doesn't need it, doesn't need his sympathy no matter his intentions. She's fine on her own, he knows, as she takes a breath and shakes her head with a sigh, steadying herself. When she looks at him next, her eyes are _alive_ with that same burning passion he feels in his heart.

"That's were we come in," she says. "That's what we...what _I_ want to do, from now on. I can't and won't stand by and let things continue the way they are with what I know, what I've seen and been through. When I have the power to do something about it."

Sabo stares at her. Koala stares back. A cool breeze disturbs the patches of green grass and leaves underfoot, wafts through Sabo's curls under the brim of his hat. Goosebumps creep along exposed skin at the chill, but he hardly feels them.

Instead, he smiles. "Well then," he digs into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out the sleeping Snail, holding it out. "It might not be much, but you can use this."

Koala blinks at him, eyes darting back and forth between him and the snail quizzically. He snickers and drops it carefully onto her lap. "I've been doing some snooping of my own tonight," he explains. "Snapped some pictures of the town, certain elements that I firmly believe should _not_ be in a town like this, especially with a heavy Navy presence. I was gonna compile them into a letter explaining the situation and send it off to the highest Navy base, maybe get someone to finally come and deal with this –"

"Why?" Koala cuts him off suddenly. Sabo balks a little at her tone – firm, but not accusatory or disbelieving. More curious. When all he does is look at her, she elaborates. "We've been monitoring this place for weeks. You've only been here a day, and you're sticking your neck out, breaking rules, nearly getting yourself arrested or killed for people you don't know. Why?"

And that's the big question, isn't it? Why bother, when he's just a foreigner with no ties at all to the island or its people, no reason to do anything but keep his head down, follow the rules and mind his damn business. He won't be here much longer, after all. Just another face in the crowd, here and gone at the turn of the tide.

It's a question he's been asking himself since the idea sprouted in the dimly lit quarters of the strongest man in the world, pouring his heart out to an old pirate captain. He knows the answer, of course (at _last),_ but to merely tell Koala that it's his 'calling' won't be enough, might not make sense. But he's not about to advertise his past – his scars, his half-decade of suffering – to a stranger. A friendly stranger, but a stranger all the same.

She has her secrets, so he'll keep his. For the most part.

So – "Because I know what it feels like," he says, "to be trapped by people who think they're better than you because of their status, their strength, wealth and power. I know what it feels like to be trapped in one hell after another, with no way out. No one willing to help because of the consequences _they'll_ suffer, or whatever shite excuse they can think of."

He squeezes the chains, feels them dig into his palms. He dips his head, the brim of his hat casting deep shadows over his eyes, aglow with kindling flames. Frigid winter rage has no place in this new blistering furnace. "I know what it's like to stand by, to watch others suffer, and do _nothing_ about _._ I _hate_ it."

Koala is silent beside him, can feel her eyes boring into him. He doesn't face her, but he does lift his head, flames blossoming like roses in his chest, igniting the same warmth and fervor he'd felt that day on the edge of a cliff on a little island in East Blue, three boys declaring their dreams, their deepest desires, as waves crashed against the jagged rocks below. Sabo's dreams haven't changed much since then. He still yearns to see the world, to learn and experience and truly _live,_ to write about his findings and share them, share his joy, with others just like him.

But beyond that...

"I want to attain true freedom," he says, feeling a smile creep along his scarred face, warm and happy. "And I wanna help others just like me do the same, no matter where they are, who they are or how much they think they're worth in this world. I don't have to look out for myself anymore, and I won't. Not when I have the power to do _something_. To help change the world for the better. Maybe even add to it."

At last. At _last,_ he says it aloud for the world to hear, no longer rolling about in his brain like a tumble-weed left to unravel and eventually die. At last, his dream doesn't seem so far away anymore.

It feels amazing. Sabo feels _amazing._

And when he looks back at Koala, the look of silent awe and understanding dawning in the deep blue of her eyes makes it all the more worth it. He can't help but grin, all teeth and cheek; a trick he picked up from Luffy –

Sabo stiffens, eyes wide, the smile frozen on his face.

Luffy. Ace. The commanders. His letter.

 _Dawn._

"Oh my _god!"_ Sabo cries, all but leaping off the swing and stumbling in the dirt. Koala jumps, startled, watching him now with wide eyes, but he's too busy panicking to notice. How could he have forgotten? How the hell did he _let_ himself forget, so caught up playing cat and mouse with the Navy to remember the pirates who will notice his absence and stage _another_ search?

"It's almost dawn and I gotta get back to my freakin' boat!" he groans in frustration, tugging uselessly at his curls. "They'll _kill_ me if they wake up and I'm not there! No, they'll kill me, find a way to bring me back, then _Ace_ will flambé me for that stupid note! I'm _screwed_ and I can't freaking remember how to get back to the docks and I can't put them through this crap again after the last _two times_ we – !"

Sabo doesn't even see Koala move, but she's up and toe to toe with him in the next instant. Then her fingers are pinching his cheeks and _pulling_ them as far as humanly possible.

He wants to cry out _,_ but his lips are too stretched out for him to do much of anything but whine. It shuts him up, though, so there's that.

"You need to relax," Koala says, like she's chatting with him about the weather and not actively pulling his cheeks in the middle of an empty playground. "We've got plenty of time 'till dawn. If you want, I can get you safely to the docks without being spotted. I know a shortcut that'll get us there in minutes. In the meantime, you need to be quiet, calm, and follow my lead, 'kay?"

Sabo blinks at her once, twice. Koala blinks back, waiting.

He rolls his eyes. "... _okee,"_ he says, or tries to – his cheeks and lips are unbelievably sore. Koala nods back, satisfied, and with great effort Sabo implores, " _Pwease weggo ov mah fash."_

A flash of teeth, all cheek and no mercy, and Koala lets the skin snap back into place. Sabo rears back and rubs the stinging flesh. " _Ow,"_ he whines again, narrowing his eyes at the slightly shorter teen. "Why did you do that? Why are you like this?"

Hands on her hips, Koala shrugs. "Would you rather I slapped you?"

"You like to hurt people you've just met, don't you?"

"When I can get away with it."

Sabo grins at her. "Can _I_ get away with it?"

"With me? Nope."

"Not fair. Why not?"

"Cos I'll pinch you again."

"Why are you so _mean?_ "

"Why are you so _whiny_?"

"I'm not whi –!"

"And I thought you had somewhere you need to be. Quit stalling and get those outrageously long legs moving."

"Outrageously lo – what's wrong with my – I'm not _stalling_ , you pinched me _first!"_

"And you're arguing with me like a five year old and _losing._ "

"Will you _stop_?!"

She's beaming at him now, shark like and unrepentant. "Okay, but only because you look ready to burst a vein and I'd feel really bad for whoever will have to clean up after you."

Sabo's left eye twitches, and before he can help it – " _You're doing this on purpose aren't you?!"_ he squawks indignantly, as he's every right to. And now she's laughing at him, _pointing_ even, like this is the highlight of her night.

Sabo just groans. Are all women like this? Head nurse Whiskey surely isn't, to a point – her humor involves threats of bodily harm, the occasional decapitation (mostly Thatch) and the confiscating of alcohol (Whitebeard, of course), not psychological torture.

Koala's laughter simmers and she loops her arm in his, tugging him along as they leave the park, trudge up the grass slope and venture back into the streets, blessedly vacant. Sabo lets her tug him along a moment longer, until he decides to jerk his arm back suddenly, making her stumble with a squeak and meet his smirk with a warning glare that bears no heat. Sabo merely shrugs, petty vengeance achieved, and the pair fall into step with each other, arms linked, walking through dark alleys and barren roads.

Koala might be mean, maybe a tad violent (no, this is _not_ the pot calling the kettle black), but Sabo likes her. Likes that she told him the truth despite how dangerous it could be for the both of them. Likes that once said truth was out, she let him see a part of her that's no doubt hidden from other outsiders – and that's what he is, really. An outsider, a civilian that got tangled into her affairs regardless of how and why.

But more than anything, he likes that they're torn more or less from the same cloth. They share ideals, a passion for a cause far greater than anything the Navy, the World Government or any political power can ever hope to preach, the shared love and yearning for freedom.

Sabo just...likes Koala.

"Looking a little red, blondie," Koala says without looking at him, but he can _hear_ her grin. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Sabo doesn't look at her either, refusing to give her the satisfaction as his cheeks burn. "Shut up."

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

The sun is just starting to peek over the line of the sea by the time Sabo and Koala make it to the docks. Sabo wagers it's about four or five in the morning at most, meaning not even Thatch (ever an early bird for how much he gives Marco hell for the pun alone) will be up for a good while yet, maybe longer due to the curfew.

Shoulders sagging, Sabo manages a tired smile. He's back, in one piece bar a few bruises and scrapes, none the wiser to his little excursion.

And then Koala pokes him in the arm. "You didn't tell me you're with the Whitebeard's," she says.

He blinks at her dumbly, looking back and forth between their floating home away from home and her – they'd drawn the flag down upon entry at Jozu's suggestion as not to attract unwanted attention, so how does she –?

"We saw Commander Rakuyo when we docked," she explains, and then smirks at his undoubtedly befuddled expression as they make their way to the floating vessel. "Don't worry, we only snoop ships when we know we won't get obliterated."

"...that's hardly comforting," Sabo mutters.

"Wasn't supposed to be." Koala unhooks her arm from his and makes the leap up to the railing, catching the top bar and easily flipping herself over and onto the deck. When she pokes her head over to look down at him, he grins and mouths 'Showoff!'. She shrugs, unrepentant, and makes room for him to follow.

A weight eases off his shoulders once his feet hit the deck, and he sighs.

Safe at last.

"Oh," Koala says suddenly, surprise in her tone. "Who's this little guy?"

Sabo freezes. He whirls on a heel, and it's all he can do to swallow the piercing shriek threatening to tear his throat a new one. Koala, in stark contrast, is the embodiment of cool and collected.

He'd expected to be caught by Ace, ever the doting and at times hovering older brother that he is. Might've even accepted Izo or Jozu, the pair ever diligent, and because Izo works in mysterious ways that none but he are privy to. Sabo never would've thought for a moment that he'd be outed by _Luffy._

His baby brother, wide awake, sits atop the wheelhouse with his legs crossed, hands bracing his ankles, smiling and staring at Sabo and Koala from across the way. Sabo and Koala stare right back, the former holding in a despairing wail and the other...well...

"Hey there," Koala greets, stepping forward until she's about a foot away from Luffy, who is eerily still and quiet even for the mute twelve-year-old. "My name's Kay. What's yours?"

Luffy blinks at her. His expression doesn't change at all, and Koala doesn't drop her pleasant smile the longer the silence drags out.

 _'He's reading her,'_ Sabo realizes. Just as he'd done with Marco and Thatch the day they were discovered (it feels so long ago now, when it's only been about two months.) But something feels...different, somehow. The intensity is there, lingering in the looming silence, in Luffy's unwavering stare that Koala easily meets. But where once was a blank, unreadable canvas of emotion, the smile remains. It's not fake nor is it wholly genuine, but it's there when it never usually is. Makes Sabo wonder...

Soon enough, Luffy returns her smile with his signature blinding grin, giggling softly and raising his hands. 'I'm L-U-F-F-Y. Nice to meet you,' he signs, spelling out his name across his palm and fingers.

It doesn't occur to Sabo until now that Koala might not know sign –

"Luffy, huh? That's a cute name. Very nice to meet you too, Luffy!"

...why is he even surprised?

Sabo pinches the bridge of his nose and fights a sigh as he approaches the pair. Koala steps aside to give him room to face his...oddly expectant baby brother, and for the first time ever Sabo finds himself _apprehensive_ of the kid he and Ace used to beat the ever-loving crap out of back in Goa. That certainly hasn't changed much at all – they still kick his ass during training, for all that he's improved since their scrappy brawls in unkempt jungles – and it's not like Luffy is gonna take a swing at him.

No, Sabo's not afraid of Luffy. It's Luffy tattling on him to the commanders _,_ to _Ace,_ that chills him to the bone.

He can already see the shock, the disappointment on their faces should they ever find out, Whitebeard's words be damned, because he'd _deliberately_ disobeyed them, beat the hell out of a Navy officer, nearly got himself thrown in jail, got chased across the town for a good hour, and returns near _dawn_ slightly injured and with a _stranger._ A pretty – er, a _nice_ stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Who happens to be a super secret spy.

No, no way, not a chance in whatever other hells exist, can they know. And yet the biggest mouth in the Grand Line has him caught, at his mercy whether the boy knows it or not.

So Sabo musters up a smile, big and wide in an effort to hide said fears, crouching so he's eye-level with the pre-teen. " _Heyyy_ , little brother," he says, sweet as candy, and he ignores Koala's snort. "What'cha doin' up so early, huh? You okay, bud?"

Luffy's reply is immediate, seeing straight through the sickly sweetness. 'Woke up to pee. Saw the note you left on Thatch's bag and called bull. I ate it and stayed up to wait for you.'

Ah. Should've figured the note wouldn't have fooled anyone. And he'd called Koala a bad liar. Wait, did he say he _ate_ the...? Ah whatever. It's Luffy.

Sabo hangs his head, groaning and muttering curses under his breath. On his left, Koala's fighting another laugh and failing. The urge to flip her a bird for both their troubles occurs to him, but he waves the petty thought off for now to instead meet Luffy's gaze once more, ignoring how _pleased_ the brat looks with himself at the power he now holds over his big brother.

Sabo takes a breath, clasping his hands. "Okay, Lu, I'm gonna level with you here," he says. Luffy leans in expectantly like an attentive puppy, and it might be cute if Sabo weren't so damn anxious. "I really need you to not tell Ace or the commanders, and to lie as best as humanly possible if anyone ever asks. Can you please _, please_ do that for me just this once because I love you and you love me very very much?"

Luffy cocks his head to one side, brows furrowed and lips pulled down in thought. And then – 'What will you give me for it?' he asks.

Sabo's jaw drops like a stone. This little _bastard._

Koala's laughter is almost impossible to stifle, harder for Sabo to ignore, and in his desperation and frustration he finally gives in, pride be damned, and falls to one knee. "I'll – I'll give you all of my meat every meal for the next two – _three,_ weeks!" he pleads, mustering another smile that teeters on the edge of sanity.

Luffy blinks down at him, staring.

Sabo's smile falls flat as a desert plane. Kid drives a hard bargain. "Fine," he drones. "A month."

 _That_ gets a grin from the rubber boy, and Luffy nods rigorously. 'Deal', he signs, and hops off the wheelhouse, already licking his greedy chops for his upcoming spoils of war. Sabo rolls his eyes to the heavens but still thanks them for granting this small mercy as he stands, dusting off his pants and watching Luffy trot off towards the door leading below decks. He stops there, turning to Sabo and waving him over.

Sabo allows a tired smile, shoulders loosening. Nothing sounds better right now than squeezing a few hours of sleep in the warm confines of their cabin. But first... "I'll be down in a sec, Lulu. Just gotta..." he gestures Koala, still grinning and then cooing softly at the nickname. Again, Sabo ignores her, though it's an effort. "Don't wake the others up, okay?"

Luffy looks between the two of them one last time and nods, waves a farewell to Koala that she eagerly returns with a soft "Bye-bye, Luffy," that does _something_ to Sabo's heart, and then the boy pads down the steps, out of sight.

Alone at last, the blond and the redhead face each other. Hands on her hips, Koala is the first to break the silence, and her new grin already has Sabo on edge, waiting for a blow – "So you go from getting your ass kicked by a Marine to then getting it handed to you by your wretchedly cute little brother?" she taunts.

"Would you like to be thrown overboard?" Sabo asks with feigned grace any butler would be right proud of, and gets another laugh in response. Mild ire aside, he can't help but snicker with her, shaking his head with a long sigh. He's exhausted, physically and emotionally, a little battered and sleep deprived in a way he's not used to, but the smile stays where it is.

It's been a wild ride of a night, and easily one of the best Sabo's ever had in his admittedly short life. Better still, he didn't spend it alone, or in the confines of a cell. Rather, he's made an unlikely new friend outside of his circle of brothers, outside of the Whitebeard's, that he knows in his heart he can _trust._

It's a great feeling. He wonders if this is how Ace felt with Mei. Finding kinship born from the kindness of a stranger.

Koala rocks once on her heels, hands clasped, eyes averted to the floorboards for the first time. They both know she can't linger much longer. Offering her to stay until the curfew ends is absolutely out of the question, for more reasons than the simple 'it's inappropriate'. Another offer to walk her home sits heavy on his tongue – old habits really do die hard – but he withholds that, too. It'd be pointless, and she's more than capable of taking care of herself, even if the idea that she might get caught again roils something in Sabo's gut that he can't quite explain.

Still, _her_ reluctance to make the first move, to utter the first farewell as her eyes dart from the railing to him and back again, speaks volumes in the ringing silence.

"You sure you're alright with me taking the snail?" she asks eventually, when the silence gets too loud for both of them.

Sabo has to think for a moment on what on earth she means before it clicks; his whole reason for sneaking out is currently in her pocket. "Oh, yeah, sure," he says, nodding and lacing his fingers behind his back in a vain effort to hide their twitching. "It's probably better in your hands than mine. You've got connections that'll get things done faster, right?"

Koala shrugs. "Maybe," she says, because she likes to be cryptic, he's learned. Still, there's something bright in her eyes that both makes Sabo incredibly nervous (warranted) and curious all the same, so he waits.

"Still," she adds idly, "it wouldn't be right to just take off with a trusted confidant's property. Best return it as soon as possible, right?"

It takes Sabo's brain a moment to sort through her words like the jigsaw they are, and when it does, it's all he can do to fight the blood rushing to his face.

Is...is she implying that...she wants to see him again?

He's staring, he knows he is, his mouth flapping open and shut like a venus fly-trap having a seizure (is that even possible?), brain working on overdrive in a mad scramble for something, _anything_ to say that's even remotely coherent. Of course, as always, all that comes is – "Bugh?"

Koala giggles under her breath, but thankfully doesn't point out his blunder for once as she spins on her heel and makes for the railing. One leg over, she casts a final glance at Sabo over her shoulder, the lad frozen where he stands in the center of the deck like an idiot. "Don't worry about finding me tomorrow," she says. "We'll find you."

 _'...well, that's not at all unnerving.'_

With that oddly sinister line, Koala leaps off the ship. Sabo watches her dash across the walkway until she disappears into the remnants of darkness blanketing the sleeping town.

Sabo stands there dumbly a few seconds more before he shakes his head, smiling to himself as he descends below deck, opting to rest while he can before the others get up. His heart starts to race, however, at whatever the day ahead of him has in store –

And then he pauses. Blinks.

"...' _we'?"_

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Ace wakes to beams of sunlight filtering through the cracks and portholes of their little boat, and to the sight of his little brothers tangled together in a mess of limbs and blankets beside him. The commanders aren't here, undoubtedly having left the young trio to a few more minutes of sleep like the hopeless bunch they are.

(If being below the age of eighteen was all it took to bring the renowned Whitebeard Pirates to their knees, he'd have had a better chance at taking the old captain down years ago by simply batting his eyes.)

He doesn't remember rolling over during the night (something he _never_ let himself do no matter how uncomfortable he was – a protection against whatever terrors lurked in the night, both real and imagined) but he must have done, otherwise he'd be trapped in Luffy's rubbery embrace, too. Not that he'd complain too much. Rubber humans make a surprisingly comfortable pillow.

Sitting up with a yawn, Ace allows himself a moment to just watch them, smiling softly. The pair are dead to the world, Luffy wrapping his arms around Sabo's waist twice over, face burrowed deep into the older teen's chest like a kitten seeking refuge against its mother. In turn, Sabo's arms curl around Luffy's smaller frame, their legs tangled, nose nuzzling into messy black hair, blond curls an endearing mess against the pillow. He's snoring softly, completely out of it, and the most peaceful Ace has seen him since their days in the tree-house.

Ace feels his smile broaden despite himself, reaching out to gently sweep a stray curl from Sabo's forehead –

He freezes. Eyes wide as they zero in on a massive bruise on Sabo's right temple, hidden under the the mass of golden bed-hair.

That wasn't there before.

Heart in his throat, Ace grabs Sabo's shoulder and shakes him before he can think better of it. "'Bo! Sabo, wake up!"

Once upon a time, Sabo might've leapt awake, eyes wide and alert, scanning for any and all dangers at his brothers' urgent tone. Now, his nose scrunches up in a manner that's almost cute, and mismatched blue and grey eyes blink blearily up at him, sleepily indignant. He squints. " _...wot,"_ he grunts.

It gets an involuntary snort from Ace, but he's quick to muffle it. "What the hell happened to your head? Are you okay?"

Sabo blinks languidly like a cat. "...went to pee. Hit m'head on the mast...thingy...on th' way 'own," he mumbles, already falling back to sleep. "Shuddup. 'm comfy here. Tryn'a sleep..."

Ace feels his eye twitch, but the moment Sabo resumes his snoring, he knows there's no hope in getting answers. He can almost _smell_ the lie through the dreary murmurs – considering how tall the 'mast thingy' is compared to his twin, it's highly unlikely he'd hit his head on the damn thing even if he was sleepwalking.

Ace sighs, hangs his head and shakes it. Well, at least he's not concussed or sick. Just sleepy, and perhaps a tad grumpy, like he'd gotten no rest all night. Ace can let it go for now.

He entertains the thought of going back to sleep himself, but his grumbling stomach implores him otherwise so he gets up, slipping into his boots after a good stretch that pops bones and joints wonderfully, and he steps over his brothers' sleeping bodies, snagging his at on the way out. He can let them sleep a little longer, Sabo especially. Something tells Ace he sorely needs it.

Something else cautions him of waking the blond up _at all_ lest he get his hand bitten off. It's been a while since those thoughts ever occurred, and he's torn on whether that's a good thing or not.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Thatch likes to think he's an observant man.

Observation Haki aside, there's not much that can escape his notice when he cares to pay attention (far more often than Marco likes to think, thank you very much), as one must do, both as the head chef in a busy kitchen and a warrior among the strongest of pirates.

Hence why Sabo's cheery disposition, despite his prior grouchiness upon waking, instantly catches the Fourth Commander's attention.

With Jozu at his side, Sabo decided to join them next on their browse through the markets, having much more time now without the nervous hustle and bustle of yesterday; Ace and Luffy are with Izo and Haruta this time, to look for whatever Izo hadn't the chance to pilfer yesterday and some...meds for Ace.

(Whiskey's got a hunch the kid might've caught something after a tip from one of Shank's guys during the party, and due to his odd new habit of falling asleep at random intervals that aren't normal even for a teen like Ace. Nothing to be afraid of, she's appeased over and over, but she'd given a specific list to Izo "just in case."

Not to worry, she says, but as is habit nowadays with these boys, Thatch can't help but worry about the freckled lad just a little bit. But Whiskey's good at what she does, insanely good, if the Strongest Man in the World even quivers at her not-so-idle threats. Ace will be fine.)

In the meantime, Thatch and Jozu are hitting the food stalls for whatever bits and pieces they might need, as well as a few somethings to treat the boys for good behaviour and, well, because Thatch will take any opportunity to spoil the kids as much as he can. The place is crowded and noisy, but not at all uncomfortable, and while he can spot the odd Marine here and there loitering in the shadows of alleys or nearby stalls and shops (a tad more than yesterday) it does little to dampen the mood in the air at all. Least of all Sabo's.

Which brings Thatch back his prior observation.

Sabo seems different this morning. He walks with a new air about him, shoulders squared, head high and darting left and right as bright eyes scan the crowds and stalls like he's searching for something exciting. There's a slight bounce in his step that wasn't there yesterday, before nor after his run-in with a bastard officer, a smile stretching his lips that's assured as it is content with the world.

Thatch blinks. He's...fairly certain he's never seen Sabo like this before. It's a sight more fitting of what he's seen and knows of Luffy, not the somewhat skittish, soft spoken and polite-due-to-extreme-trauma Sabo. Not that this it all a bad thing, hell no; Thatch's heart throbs gleefully for the sudden but wholly welcome change in the boy, glad to see him with his head held high, not a sprinkle of hesitation or fear in sight.

But still...yesterday he'd been rather gloomy, for all that he'd tried to keep up a cheerful act for his brothers' sake, and now he's bright as the sun itself. And is he _humming_ under his breath?

Thatch shares a wide-eyed glance with Jozu, the larger man raising a brow in turn, no doubt thinking the same. _'What's got him in such a good mood today?'_

Before either pirate can ask him, Sabo stops in his tracks so suddenly you'd think Hancock had turned him to stone. His eyes catch something across the way on his right, and the smile that blooms is a joy and wonder forever. It's not a look Thatch sees much on Sabo except when faced with the stunning view of the sea or his brother's ridiculous antics, so the commander is quick to follow the boy's gaze, searching the crowds –

There. A young girl standing by a small cafe with a much larger, bearded man that _might_ be a Fishman in the worst of disguises, meets Sabo's gaze and waves at him, a matching smile dimpling her cheeks. She's wearing a soft purple, frilly skirt with a matching blouse, pink roses pinned into her red bob of hair above her left ear.

She's young, about Sabo's age probably, and cute, he'll admit. But when he looks back at Sabo, still grinning with a hint of _pink_ tinting his cheeks –

 _Oh._

 _OH._

Thatch gasps, just shy of bouncing in place like a giddy schoolgirl, his beaming grin tearing his face a new one. This must be _the_ girl Izo and Haruta were whispering and giggling about last night. The one who'd jumped to Sabo's aid after the officer knocked him down, relinquishing her _embroidered_ handkerchief to clean his face off. It has to be, holy mother sea! And _Sabo's face –_ he's –

"Oh my god," Thatch squeaks. He whirls on Jozu. "Oh my _god."_

The larger man is no different, sans the smile, but his eyes are just as wide, like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Well, he'd better, because Sabo's turning to them now, and Thatch already knows what he's about to ask.

Sure enough, hands wringing together in a show of nerves that for once doesn't stem from fear of a time long gone – "Hey, Thatch, Jozu –"

"Yes," Thatch says at once in sync with Jozu, which surprises them both. Thatch looks at the other man, who simply shrugs. Who knew the big ol' bastard was a romantic at heart.

Sabo blinks at them. "Whu – seriously?" he stammers, looking back once at the girl and back to the commanders again. "Just – just like that? For real?"

"Abso-freaking-lutely, kiddo." Beaming hard enough that it hurts, Thatch grasps Sabo's shoulders, spins him around and steers him in the direction of the girl and her Fishman companion, letting him go with a tiny shove. "Off with you, young pup. Go talk to your new girlfriend."

Red swallows up Sabo's face from the roots of his hair all the way down to his collarbone, mouth agape with horror. "Oh my – no, no that's – she's not – no, _Thatch_ –!"

"Onward, my boy!" Thatch cries with enough theatrics to put Vista to shame or make him proud, whichever comes first. People glance their way, confused until they take one look at Sabo and smile, a few older women giggling, men grinning and shaking their heads fondly. Jozu slaps a hand over his eyes, massive shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Spread your wings and fly, seize your happiness with both hands! I'm proud of you, my son!"

There's steam billowing from Sabo's ears if you squint, and his attempt to hide his blood red face inside his hat accomplishes very little. _"_ _Thaaaaatch,"_ he groans, _"_ _shut the hell up!"_

It's enough to make Thatch feel just a little bad, but not bad enough to banish his glee as he waves the blond off. "Alright, alright, I'll shut up," he concedes. "Go on, buddy, but be sure to meet us at the ship around six, though. We wanna be heading back home before the curfew, alright?"

(It takes every ounce of his non-existent self-control to swallow the 'use protection!' at the very tip of his tongue, but it's a very close thing. Sabo would never forgive him.)

"Fine," the boy grumbles, spinning on his heel and marching away without a backwards glance, eager to get away. It's such a 'teenage boy' thing to do, so normal and petulant and wholly endearing that it brings a tear to Thatch's eye that's only somewhat feigned as he sniffles messily.

"Our lil' boy's all grown up," he whimpers mostly for show, dabbing the corners of his eyes with his sleeve as he watches Sabo join the girl and her larger companion, the former wearing a teasing grin that'd put Haruta to shame while the big guy looks pleasantly amused. Sabo looks ready to let the earth swallow him whole even as they settle down at the table.

It's only when Sabo finally offers Thatch and Jozu a quick glance over his shoulder, accompanied with a smile that's grateful and bashful and every other soft thing under the sun, that Thatch feels a true lump in his throat too thick to swallow.

 _Oh, kid..._

Luckily, that's what Jozu's for, and the man chuckles deeply and thumps him once on the back. "Come on, let's leave the kid to it," he says, "you've shown him up enough as it is. Let him have his fun." With that, he starts to walk away. Thatch lingers just long enough to catch Sabo's glowing smile as he laughs at something the girl says, and then he's trotting after Jozu.

Teenage crush or no, Thatch is so unbelievably proud. The kid really is growing up, in all the ways that matter, big or small, and Thatch is so grateful, blessed really, to be alive to see it all first hand.

(He can't wait to tell _everybody._ Pops will flip his freaking lid.)

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: YO! Sorry for the delay, I took a month off to do Inktober :) I only did about 9 drawings in total, that's six more than last year, yay! XD  
**

 **Anyways, thank you all SO MUCH for the encouragement from the last chapter! Your comments make my whole day. The word count sits at 12,136, because i decided to treat you guys to a little something at the end since you've been asking for it for so long!**

 **A few mentions:**

 **haso12123 -thank you, dear! Really appreciate it!**

 **Caraline Fisher - Indeed, poor Sabo! Luffy is a master at manipulation XD Thanks for the review!**

 **DemonKittyAngel - Everything you've said about the boys leaving the nest hits me in the feels, and you're right, in some ways Luffy _just_ might be the last push the boys need :) Not telling you what he does, tho! Thanks for both reviews, dear!**

 **Wordlet - Read all three of your comments, and I'm gonna cry cos you're so sweet and so THOUGHTFUL. STOP PREDICTING MY STORY! Thank you so much for your reviews my dear, I hope I don't let you down!**

 **Stormy1x2 -Zomg thanks senpai! Don't apologize for manners, I'm just as bad XD more coming right up!**

 **Llama -Saboala FTW! The story isn't over yet, still a few chapters left to go, so don't get down XD thanks for the review!**

 **the-lurkingAnon-reader - the tea shall be spilled XD thanks for reviewing!**

 **VisitorNo.18 - I...honestly didn't even think about it like that XD dammit Thatch, you have one job! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Guardian Hyren - You can always count on Thatch to not keep his trap shut XD**

 **Kohumi - If you loved that chapter, I think you'll adore this one XD**

 **Andy - first of all HI ANDY! Second of all you're 22? Me too! Third, reading your reactions is the greatest thing in the world, I love it XD Don't worry about Thatch, though, I'm sure he'll be fine - oh hey Teach. :) Thanks for the review, a pleasure as always!**

 **CanIHaveAHug - My talent is procrastination, nothing more XD Thanks hon, love u too!**

 **Jennifer - Thatch is a wonderful disaster and we stan him in this house! Thanks for the review!**

 **Final Syai Lunar Generation - Luffy is a little s*it and we love him! Koala and Sabo are wonderful to write, like a younger Tony and Pepper from Marvel, and I;m glad you're enjoying this!**

 **Sorry if I couldn't respond to everyone, but I love and value you regardless! Now, onto the chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy :**

* * *

 **Chapter 26**

"Meds? Meds for what?"

Izo graces Ace with a look Luffy is more or less acquainted with by now; it's not worried, (getting there, maybe) and an attempt to appease. The sixteenth commander pulls it off as well as Marco does. "Because, dear," the man says, "we've noticed you've been having problems sleeping _and_ staying awake lately, and it's a little concerning. One of Shank's men mentioned to Whiskey that you'd fallen asleep three times during the party without warning, twice near the fire –"

"And in Red Hair's freakin' arms," Haruta adds. Luffy has the pleasure of watching Ace's face turn a lovely shade of puce as he glares daggers at the other commander. Haruta only grins wider. "Wish I could'a seen it! A swoon any maiden would be right proud – _oi!"_

Izo, with the speed and grace of a swan, cuffs Haruta upside the head. The shorter commander cradles his head and pouts, an action that goes wholly ignored as Izo turns back to Ace. "What we're trying to say is that Whiskey has a hunch you might've caught something on the island we just left or...well, _before_. She's asked us to grab a few things just in case, and she'll have a look at you once we get home _._ I know we should have told you about this first, but we didn't want you or anyone else jumping to conclusions and getting worked up. I hope that's alright?"

Hand in hand with Ace as he trots along, Luffy looks up at his brother. The teen looks distinctly uncomfortable, confused with a hint of worry he's doing his best to hide. No sooner does the reluctant acceptance take over, and Ace's shoulders droop with a sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine," he says, avoiding their gazes and averting his own to the bustling stalls. Frustration burns bright in silver eyes, merged with uncertainty.

Luffy feels it, too – what could be wrong with Ace, and why now? – but it's not a look he wants at all on his brother's face, so he squeezes Ace's hand twice to get his attention. Once he has it, he smiles big and real, pouring every ounce of love he can in a bid to wipe that look away. It does the trick, even if all he gets in return is a fond if reluctant half smile. A win, in Luffy's book.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Haruta says, fingers laced behind his head as he ambles lazily beside Izo, walking backwards to face the brothers. "Whiskey's the best there is at what she does, and all it is is sleepin'. She'll probably just give you a few shots –" Luffy suppresses a shiver, "– and you'll be right as rain! S'not like you're dying or anything, right?"

Then he pauses, blinks, twirls to face the front and poke Izo's arm. "He ain't dying, right? Izo? He's not gonna die, right? Izo. Izo. Izo–"

"Oh for goodness sake, of _course_ not," Izo snaps, batting Haruta's hand away. Luffy giggles at the bickering that ensues, and Ace rolls his eyes again to hide the smidgen of a smile along his lips.

Eventually, Luffy tunes the pirates out, letting his mind and eyes wander. It's much busier now than yesterday, and where paranoia and fear had poisoned the air as the night drew near, there's not a trace of it now in the brightness of day. People walk about and mingle freely, smiling and happy and chatting. Children chase each other through the streets in whatever adventure they've made for themselves, parents watching close by. It all seems peaceful.

Obviously, that's not the case, made abundantly clear when one Marine steps out from an alley – hardly intimidating, but a young couple jump at the sight of him before hurrying away, heads ducked low and nervous. The officer's glare burns holes into their backs until they're gone, and with a grunt he continues his lonely patrol.

Well, lonely might not be the right word. In fact, unless Luffy is truly terrible with faces, there seems to be a lot more Marines littered all over the place, all of them visibly armed. There's a small group gathered by what looks like a destroyed set of barrels and a puddle of congealed blood at the mouth of an alley; faces are grim and creased with annoyance and confusion as they snap and bark at each other, the sort that screams 'how dare someone have the balls to defy us'.

Luffy's seen it plenty of times before, on Porchemy, Bluejam, Sabo's father...the royals _back there._ To see it on the faces of entitled Marines is only slightly surprising, but completely entertaining and so _deserved_.

Luffy grins to himself. He wonders if Sabo might have anything to do with any of this. If so, the pre-teen couldn't be prouder –

Izo freezes mid-step, eyes blown wide at something straight ahead. He frantically pats Haruta's arm until the brunet whines – "What the hell, Iz – _mph!"_ The cross-dresser grabs Haruta's cheeks in one one hand and forces him to follow Izo's gaze. It takes a minute, but Haruta's eyes pop from their sockets. "... _Howy cwap,"_ the Twelfth commander gasps through squished cheeks.

Luffy blinks. Ace blinks. They turn to each other and blink again, lost.

Ace lets go of Luffy's hand to step around the frozen pirates, watching them as one might watch a pair of feral animals; unsure and justifiably wary. "Um...you guys okay?" he asks, waving a hand in front of Haruta's eyes. Luffy trots to Izo's side, stretching a hand to do the same ( because Izo is _heckin'_ tall). Neither react, until Izo plants a hand in Luffy's hair, Haruta doing the same to Ace, and spin their heads around.

Luffy's jaw drops to the dirt the same time Ace squeaks.

It's Sabo, walking along the street, chatting amiably with that girl from last night. She'd said her name was Kay or something stupid; Luffy hadn't believed her, but he could tell she was nice, her banter with Sabo funny to watch, her laughter and the light in her eyes bright and genuine. She was trustworthy, if a little secretive, but to each their own and whatnot.

She's also walking very close to Sabo. Hell, they're arm in arm, strolling along the cool dolphin fountain they'd caught a glimpse of the other day, talking about something that makes Kay's eyes light up and broadens Sabo's grin. And now they're about to buy candy apples from a lady waving the 'cute couple' over to her stall...

Luffy blinks, hard.

 _Wait. What the –? Is...are they...is Sabo –?_

"Does Sabo have a _girlfriend?!"_ Ace cries. He's yet to pick his jaw up from the floor.

Izo nods weakly, hands loosening their grip on Luffy's head and Haruta's face. "It...It c-certainly seems that way," the man stammers, looking torn on whether to grin himself stupid or cry until his make-up runs. Probably both.

Haruta, on the other hand, throws his head back and cackles gleefully, throwing an arm around Aces shoulders and pointing at the pair like a madman. "That's the girl from yesterday!" he crows, "the one who held off that Marine and gave Sabo her hanky! They _totally_ hooked up, and I didn't even need to help! Sabo you _smooth_ _sucker!"_

Well, someone's excited.

Ace has nothing to say to any of that, the cogs in his brain turning and turning. Luffy _feels_ the exact moment in which the pieces come together, and his new smile is a hopelessly soft thing that he'll forever deny if asked. There's a faraway look in his eye, like he's watching something beyond Sabo and Kay...Luffy's seen it before, but the heartache that usually accompanies it is absent, leaving something far fonder, warm. "Huh. Would you look at that," he murmurs.

Izo has tears in his eyes now, biting back a smile that'll tear his face in two. Haruta's still giggling to himself, muttering on about how he can't _wait_ to tell Marco, tell Pops, tell _everyone_ when they get home. Luffy might've felt the same, if a little confused on how they went from friends to...well, more than that in a single night.

Until he notices the imposing but not (yet) threatening presence of a poorly disguised Fishman pretending to read a book on the bench by the fountain. Notices the cloaked figures blending into the alleyways and rooftops, shadowy gazes lured to the patrolling Marines nearby. Notices the way both 'Kay' and Sabo are quick to duck their heads when one officer comes too close, candy apples in hand and faces aglow with puckish glee...

Luffy remembers Sabo's disappearance, remembers standing at the bow of their little boat and feeling his brothers' joy and excitement from afar, remembers Sabo's desperate bargaining, the broken barrels and the dried pool of blood surrounded by irate Marines...

Luffy remembers, and smiles. The pieces come together.

This might not be quite like Ace and the commanders want to believe, but that's okay. Whatever this is, whatever plans these people have or whatever intentions Kay has towards Sabo, Luffy isn't worried. Kay can be trusted, fake identity aside, and if the others subtly (and not-so-subtly) surrounding them from below and above are her friends, there's no reason to fear.

And if Sabo's happy, _truly_ happy, then Luffy's happy. That's all that matters.

"We gonna follow them?" Haruta sniggers, breaking Luffy from his reverie to look at the commander the same time Ace does, brow raised.

Izo snaps out of his own little fantasy (probably already working on the wedding arrangements) to level Haruta with a glare. "Of course not, you oaf. We need to get Ace's medicine and our essentials first. And _then_ we follow them!" he adds, cheeks flushed with happiness. Haruta gives a quiet whoop, punching the sky. Ace rolls his eyes for the hundredth time, but his smile is indulgent, so he's not as against the idea as he probably thinks he is.

Luffy watches the pirates twitter like lovesick doves a moment longer before turning back to the fountain just in time to watch Kay and Sabo stroll away, still arm in arm – until Kay smacks Sabo on the shoulder for something (probably a stupid joke,) but they're both laughing, the blond holding up his hands in surrender. Kay, appeased, shrugs and loops her arm through Sabo's when he offers it again. Soon, they turn a corner, out of sight.

The moment they turn the corner of a bakery, several things happen at once; the Fishman stuffs a tasseled bookmark between the pages of his book and shuts it, stands up and stretches with a yawn, and then lumbers tardily in the same direction Sabo and Kay left in. The figures on the roof and in the alley vanish in turn. No one notices but Luffy.

A month or so ago, paranoia and fear for his brother's safety, his life, might've seized the boy with icy talons; they've already nearly lost him once, Luffy knew he wouldn't be able to handle another scare, another close call. Now, however, he takes Ace's hand and follows the fevered commanders to the chemist, wondering what new adventure awaits Sabo should he choose to accept it.

(Something tells the future pirate king that he will.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

An hour or so later – and after a mild freak out between Izo, Haruta and an equally ecstatic Thatch (Jozu standing behind doing his best to _look_ disinterested) once the other pair catch up – sees all of them trailing after Sabo and...his new girlfriend. Dear god above when did that happen?

Some might call this stalking – Ace certainly does. Thatch begs to differ. "It's not _stalking,_ kiddo! It's...it's more like, stealthily pursuing two individuals in order to ascertain their intentions towards each other, romantic or otherwise!"

So, yeah. Stalking.

They end up following Sabo and his...date around town all afternoon, keeping a fair distance. The whole time, the creeping fools (minus Jozu, an immovable rock of a presence where the others are little more than a parade of giggling schoolgirls) whisper outlandish theories and a quiet yet wholly dramatic retelling of what was a mere chance meeting and a hasty farewell – it attracts some attention from confused locals, to Ace's horror. This _must_ be what it's like to have parents, or at least parents like Thatch and Izo – doting and warm but undeniably _embarrassing_ to be seen with in public – and all he can do about the fact is to duck his head down, pretending not to exist while keeping Sabo in his sights and Luffy at his side. The latter gets easier when the little monkey in question decides to hop onto Ace's back instead.

The longer they follow, the more Ace starts to wonder why. The couple aren't doing much of anything, really. Arms are still linked, quiet words and wisps of laughter floating above the constant droning of the crowds, Sabo offering the odd quip here and there like he's trying to be charming and the girl rolling her eyes in a way that's entirely fond...it's cute, Ace can admit that much, but nothing to warrant a gang of men and two teens shadowing them wherever they go.

(...who is he kidding? Ace wants to see this as much as the Whitebeard's do. He wants to see his brother _happy_ , regardless of what form it takes. And if he's honest...he needs to see for himself if this girl, girlfriend or no, is genuine. They've been tricked by innocent smiles before, kind gestures hiding truly foul intentions. A fine example being Sabo's own parents, who thrived off such deception.

Ace won't be fooled, nor will he allow his family to slip so easily into the same traps that've damned them over and over. He'll gladly rid anyone who tries.)

The afternoon flies by, the hour to depart drawing nearer, and the group of stalkers – ah, 'Romantic Investigators' as dubbed by Haruta, _ugh_ – soon find themselves peering from behind a thicket of bushes when the young pair stop at an empty children's playground. They share a _Look,_ one that speaks a hundred words only they are privy to. Ace leans forward – they're close enough now that they can hear, not enough to be spotted.

"Here again at the end of all things," Sabo quips with a dramatic flair, twirling on a heel before sitting on a swing. "Is it fate that brought us here? Destiny?"

The redhead rolls her eyes heavenward as she takes the swing beside him. "You're such a dork," she says. Sabo shrugs, making no effort to disprove the claim. They swing in silence for a moment, content in each other's company, staring up at the watercolor skies as daylight begins to give way to twilight.

Ace watches Sabo closely, Luffy peeking over his shoulder where's been piggybacked for most of the afternoon. It's odd, for all that Ace wishes it wasn't – he hasn't seen Sabo like this in a while, not since their first time on deck aboard the _Moby,_ gazing out into the crystal blue of the seas beyond the railing of the mighty vessel.

He's been somewhat listless these last few days, lost in his own head; a dangerous thing at the worst of times, or in Ace's experience anyhow. Here, however, Sabo seems...at peace. Carefree. It's a good look. Sabo deserves this happiness, even in the company of a complete stranger.

Though...if this truly is what they think it is, what Thatch and Izo and Haruta (even Jozu, dear lord) are blabbering about in hushed, excited tones, what will happen once they leave? Long distance relationships are hard to maintain, or so Ace has heard (because damn if any of them know a thing about romance) and life on a pirate's ship is nothing if not unpredictable, wrought with danger with no guarantees except –

"So, have you decided?"

The girl's voice plucks Ace right out of his thoughts and back into the present. Rustling leaves, a scuffle or two and a hissed curse, and then the four Whitebeard' commanders are crowding around Ace and Luffy to get a closer look, straining their ears to tune in. It's uncomfortable and awkward, but Ace grits his teeth and bears it.

Sabo turns to her, tilting his head. "Hm?"

The girl rolls her eyes, again, but there's no frustration. "You know? The offer? I didn't go through getting lectured by Hack, setting up a meeting and introducing you to the nosiest bunch I've ever had the displeasure of working with to not get an answer, I hope you know."

Sabo blinks at her owlishly, and then puts on a disheartened pout. "So that's it? All this time and you wanted to talk _business?_ And here I thought you just wanted to spend time with me." He sighs, hanging his head despondently. "Thought you actually _liked_ me. Playing with my feelings. How very very dare you."

The girl kicks dust at him, close enough to his face that he splutters and coughs. "Moron," she chides with a grin. Sabo's own grin is unrepentant impish, and he kicks dust right back, nearly falling off his swing in the process. She barks a laugh, to which he retaliates by sticking his tongue at her. "What are you, five?" she teases.

Sabo feigns a scoff, affronted, nose upturned like the distinguished gentleman he never was and never will be. "I thought we knew each other well enough by now to establish that I'm _clearly_ six. God, Koala, keep up with the program, won't you?"

"You're impossible! I regret everything about this, everything about you."

"Thank you. Consider this payback for last night."

 _That_ gives Ace pause. Luffy is silent, but stiffens against Ace's back.

Payback? Payback for what? From what he's heard (again and again) from Haruta and Izo, all the girl had done was step in the path of a bastard Marine, offered Sabo a handkerchief for his face, exchanged maybe two words to each other and then hurried off, only to meet again earlier today by pure chance. A true romantic tale found only in fiction. Nothing to warrant...well, whatever the hell this is.

Unless...there's something they've missed, here. Something that Sabo failed to tell them. Or deliberately kept from them. It might explain the bruise under his hair, his sore knuckles, the dumb sleepy lie, the fatigue and grouchiness like he'd not slept a wink all night...

Ace frowns, cogs turning and turning in his head until they finally click.

This isn't a date. At least, not in the way the commander's are hoping. This is something else entirely. Something Sabo evidently needs to decide upon, and soon.

Better listen up, watch closely, in case Ace needs to step in at all.

Part of Ace hopes he doesn't, because this girl – Koala, apparently – seems nice. Friendly enough, keeps up with Sabo's banter like she's known him all her life. But everyone has a mask, they _know_ this, and the underneath isn't always so inviting...

The other part can't help but feel hurt at the idea of Sabo keeping something this big from him, from all of them. True, Ace is no better when it comes to secrets, but where his demons are better kept locked away, hidden beneath long sleeves and scarves, this is...different. Potentially dangerous...something that might take his brother away from them, if he's hearing Koala right.

(Of course Ace wants nothing more than to see his little brothers flourish and grow, break free from what's past and grab the future with both hands, set out into the world on their own terms, chase their dreams and fulfill them. Of course he's prepared to let them go without him if that's what they need, what they want.

But...so soon? Is Sabo really ready? Is _Ace_ ready to let him go after so long, the three of them together, joined at the hip just to survive...?

Ace shakes himself. If Sabo wants to go, and if Koala's mask isn't hiding an ugly truth behind an innocent offer...then Ace will have to accept that. It'll hurt, more than anything, but if anyone deserves the freedom to choose their own path, Sabo certainly does.

(Here's hoping the Whitebeard's feel the same way. If they're ready, willing, to let one of them go.)

"Seriously, though," Koala says once they've sobered up. "What do you think, honestly? Bear in mind that we don't do this often, or this freely. I only brought it up with them at all because I thought...what you said last night, how you felt...I figured you might want this." She scuffs the toe of her shoe against the dirt, almost hesitant, looking at him from under her bangs. Crystal eyes are wide and bright with hope. "Do you?"

Ace holds his breath, leaning forward. Luffy's arms tighten around his neck, anticipation thrumming off his scrawny body. Looks like he's figured it out, too, probably before even Ace did. The commanders are silent, watching close, listening.

 _What're you gonna do, Bo?_

Oblivious to the tension leaking from beyond the curtain of bushes and branches like miasma, Sabo regards Koala a moment longer, considering. He then turns his gaze to the clock tower, ticking away with pride and dominance over all. His fingers clench the chains holding the swing, a tell of frustration barely quelled, a shine of determination in the mismatched blues of narrowed eyes...

And in an instant, Ace knows his brothers' answer.

"...I do," Sabo admits at last, facing Koala again. "More than anything. It's...almost scary how convenient it all is, though, so much that I'm starting to wonder if you guys are legit," he adds with a smirk, one Koala returns after shoving him lightly. The smirk falls soon after, however, giving way to something sombre but not wholly devoid of cheer. "I want to...but I can't leave. Not yet."

It's a close thing, but Ace just fights a relieved sigh, shoulders sagging. Luffy relaxes too, smiling against Ace's shoulder.

Sabo's staying. Ace can't help but be happy for that.

Koala, however, looks almost disappointed. "What? How come?" she asks. "You seemed rearing to go just yesterday."

Sabo leans back a bit on his swing, staring up at the cloudless skies. "There's...some things that I still need to do," he says softly. "Things I need to work on before I'm really ready to get back out there. Things I personally need to overcome. People that still need me, even if they won't admit it."

"...your brothers, right?"

Sabo chuckles and sits up proper, the light in his eyes full of adoration Ace will never truly feel he deserves. "Yeah. My over protective older brother with no self-preservation, and my crybaby little brother who gets into trouble at every turn, of _course_ they still need me. I'm the level-headed brains of the trio."

Ace splutters, indignant. Sabo, _level-headed?!_ H gets into as much trouble as Ace and Luffy combined, he's _no_ room to talk! On his back, Luffy huffs, pouting sourly in what Ace takes as agreement. The commanders snigger collectively, even Jozu, and the two brothers shoot them weak glares that do nothing to banish their grins.

Koala, thankfully, sees the BS underneath and rolls her eyes again. "Right, of course you are," she drawls. "How's your concussion, by the way?"

"Shut up!" Sabo splutters, flushing hard. "I thought we were having a serious conversation. I was being _deep_ here!"

"God, you're so dramatic. Iva will love you, I swear you two will get along like a house on fire if we ever decide to let you near him," Koala mutters, but she soon gives way to another smile. She kicks off, swinging a little, and Sabo follows suit. "I get it. You need a little time, and that's fine. We'll have a spot for you. If it's something you really want to do, you have the number and the card I gave you. Call, or come find us. Or we'll find you. Whichever comes first."

"That sounds incredibly ominous. Me thinks I should be afraid."

"Carry on, I'll give you a reason to be afraid."

"Duly noted," Sabo concedes with a chuckle, then smiles softly. "Thank you for understanding, though, for real."

Koala waves him off. "Not a problem. But just to give me an idea, when do you think you'll be...?"

Sabo digs a heel into the dirt to halt his swinging, tilting his head to think, nose scrunching, brows pinched. Behind Ace, Izo coos under his breath about how adorable he looks, and it takes about every ounce of self-control Ace has to not groan aloud.

Eventually – "Mmm...two years, give or take?"

Koala balks, digging both her heels into the dirt. "Two years? Why so long?"

Sabo shrugs, scratching the back of his head beneath his hat. "Well...okay, don't laugh, but my brothers and I made a promise when we were little. Ace and I were ten at the time, Lulu was seven," he explains, and Ace _does_ groan a little bit now because Sabo's getting nervous. When he's nervous, he starts rambling.

"I won't go into detail, but we promised we'd set out to sea officially once we all turned seventeen. Obviously that didn't _quite_ work out the way we wanted, but...the sentiment is still there, I guess. A promise we can still keep, even with the...complications. And really, my sixteenth birthday's in March, not even two months away so it might not actually be two years so you won't have to wait all that long after all and I'll be a lot more reliable by then and _ow ow ow ow–!"_

Ace has to bite down a face-splitting grin when Koala, having caught on to Sabo's rambling habits already, reaches out and pinches Sabo's cheek with one hand, _pulling_ the flesh from the bone like rubber. Only Sabo isn't Luffy, so he's forced up from his seat, nearly stumbling into the girl who doesn't bat an eye.

Koala stares at him. "What did we say about panicking, Bluebell?" she asks, and _Bluebell?_ That's a new one.

Sabo grabs her wrist but doesn't pull her off. Probably because he can't. " _Ta nat too, I d'now I d'now!"_ he cries, and Ace muffles a cackle in the crook of his elbow. Luffy buries his face into Ace's neck to muffle his giggles, and it tickles.

Koala smiles, all innocent and sweet like, and pinches harder. Sabo whimpers like a wounded pup. "There you go. No panicking, no rambling, you're _fine,"_ she says, which only half a lie as she tugs his cheek again. _"_ If you need a year or two to prepare yourself, to be with your family, that's fine _._ We're willing to wait for you. Okay?"

" _Okee, okee!"_ Sabo's almost kneeling now, like he's begging, still gripping her wrist. " _I gat it I gat it! Weggo ov mah fash, pwease!"_

Koala does so, but not without a final tug, and Sabo crumples to the ground in an undignified heap once the flesh snaps back to the bone, whining and holding his reddened cheek, his hat rolling merrily along until it meets Koala's heel. "Why're you like this?" he grumbles into the dirt.

It's all Ace can do to bite his lip and hold in the laughter, hard enough that he almost draws blood. Luffy's pounding his fists on Ace's back, blue in the face from his own efforts. Haruta and Thatch cling to each other and crumble to their knees with high pitched wheezes like deflating balloons. Jozu's shoulders shake with mirth, and Izo grips the larger man's biceps for balance, mouth gaping in silent laughter.

"I love her," Thatch squeaks from where he's sprawled in the grass with Haruta, legs flailing in the air not unlike an upturned turtle. Literal tears run down his beaming, scarred face. _"I love her so much!"_

Relief and lingering suspicions aside, Ace has to agree. It's been a while since he's come across anyone who can knock his silver-tongued twin down a peg figuratively _and_ literally. Well, not since Garp, anyway. That man can knock _anyone_ down.

And it's the first time in a while Ace has seen his brother so... _open._ Like the boy he'd met wandering about in the trash mountains of the Grey Terminal and later pilfering the pockets of entitled nobility is slowly but surely crawling back out of the prison that five years of bondage had encased him. Hilarity aside, Ace is proud...and grateful to this young woman for helping that boy find his way out again. For getting him to smile like _that,_ like he's never known hurt at all.

For now, he thinks he can trust Koala. Trust that Sabo knows what he's doing, knows that this is what he wants.

Koala hops up from the swing, brushing off her skirt before bending down to pluck Sabo's hat off the ground, sweeping dust and dirt off the brim. Then she extends a hand to the boy himself, once he's sat up and finished acting like a baby. Sabo stares her hand dumbly for a moment, then at her. Her smile is devoid of cheek or false innocence; it's warm and real and bright (and so much like _another_ smile that it has Ace reeling for a moment, blinking away phantom images of _her)._

"When you're ready," she says. "I looking forward to working with you, Sabo."

Grinning back, Sabo takes her hand and lets her haul him to his feet with little effort. Damn, she must be strong. "Really? Thought you regretted everything about me a few minutes ago," he quips, because he can't help himself apparently. He dusts himself off and then bends at the waist, fingers laced behind his back, peering up at Koala expectantly through the curtain of blond curls.

She rolls her eyes again (they're gonna get stuck that way at this rate) and plops Sabo's hat back on his head, pushing it down deliberately until the brim covers his eyes. "True," she replies over his laughter as he stumbles backwards, pushing the brim up again, "but only a little. I've had to deal with much worse than you in my short life."

Sabo's grin is wide and cheeky as he fixes his hat proper. "Is that a compliment or a challenge?"

"It's a warning."

"Challenge accepted."

"You're on thin bloody ice."

"See? I'm already winning, and it's hardly been two days! Aren't you proud?"

"You're still impossible."

"And you're still adorable."

"Well you're – wait, what?"

"What?"

The Whitebeard's wheeze in unison, again, while Ace and Luffy shake their heads as their idiot brother attempts to crawl out of the hole he's dug himself into, stuttering hopelessly as Koala stares at him.

 _Smooth, Sabo. Real smooth._

Well, that settles it. Sabo, behind their backs, has something set up for his future, something for him to chase, like Luffy's pursuit for the crown, something _he_ can call freedom. The Whitebeard's have their gossip for the rest of the month, a story to spin for any ear willing to listen (the captain included, because of course). And Ace can let his heart settle, knowing his brother is safe, will be once he sets out alone, in the hands of Koala and her people. Whoever the hell they are.

Nodding to himself and hiking Luffy up higher on his back, Ace steps back first, garnering the attention of the buccaneers still wiping tears from their eyes. At their collective stares, the boy cocks his head in the direction of the town beyond the sloping hill. "C'mon. Let's get back to the ship before they spot us," he says. "It's almost five, y'know."

A lightbulb seems to go off above each of the sailor's heads. "Oh, damn you're right!" Thatch says, hurriedly brushing leaves and grass off his ass, tugging Haruta up by the arm with him. "Yeah, better head back now. Bet Rak's gonna be pissed when he finds out what he's missed," he adds with a wicked snicker, echoed by Haruta. Jozu and Izo share a look that's half fond and follow after the chef and the younger swordsman, Ace and Luffy not far behind.

One last look over the shoulder Luffy isn't occupying confirms that Sabo's recovered enough from his blunder to offer his arm again, which Koala takes with an indulgent shake of her head. He and Koala make the trek up the hill and back into town in the opposite direction, side by side.

Ace smiles to himself.

Yeah. Sabo will be okay.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Of course, things have to go wrong at _some_ point.

Six pm is drawing near, another day already wrapping up. The group of pirates and their young charges aren't far from the docks when Haruta sees it first. He freezes dead in the middle of the path, lets Thatch bump into him and ignores his spluttered cursing, eyes wide and fixed on the brickwork of a building on his right. _"WHAT THE –?!"_

The other commanders pause, Thatch's complaints falling deathly silent. Ace and Luffy, perplexed, follow their stunned gazes. Luffy promptly chokes on his own spit, and Ace's heart _drops_ to the pit of his stomach, horror and confusion a raging torrent within as he stares at the poster stapled to the wall.

A drawing of Sabo's face, surprisingly detailed though not quite accurate, the scowl and the scar a far more severe thing than anything Ace has ever seen on his little brothers' face. Beneath that, the words WANTED, ONLY ALIVE, big and bold, scream at Ace. A similar sketch of Koala's likeness sits beside it. Neither carry a particularly hefty bounty, but...but...

Sabo is Wanted. _Sabo_ is...is...

"Holy hell," Jozu groans, recovering from the shock far quicker than his still gaping shipmates, and only resignation remains. He shakes his head, slapping a hand over his eyes. "What did you do, kid?"

Ace's eye twitches, and the rest of him finally catches up. Fists clenching and sweaty with nerves at his sides, he _growls_.

"Oh, _I_ know what he did," he says through gritted teeth, shoulders quaking. He feels the pirates eyes on him, hears Luffy shuffle half a step away out of caution alone, but ignores all of that in favour of quelling the flames searing beneath the surface of his skin. "Screw interrogation. That little – little _shite_ just earned himself an ass kicking! I swear, when I get my hands on him he's dead, _so freaking_ _ **dead**_ –!"

"Easy, firecracker." A steady hand lands on his shoulder – Thatch's, of course, never mind the fact that the boy is almost blistering. Ace is pissed, obviously, damn near ready to explode (fear, anger, confusion Sabo what the hell did you do _what the hell is wrong with you?!)_ but even he can't shrug the chef off. It's grounding, at the very least, and some of the anger fizzles as a result.

He lets his shoulders sag with a strangled sound between a groan and a sigh. "Dammit, Sabo," he hisses.

Thatch gives him another solid pat before letting go, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing; he's the spitting image of Marco, and it's almost hilarious as it is a wonder how they're not blood related. "Jeez," he mutters, looking back at the posters. A smile is trying its way along the man's lips, for all that he does his best to fight it (and _there's_ a surprise.) "...I...I know I should be mad. I mean, I _did_ say we had to keep a low profile and all that, and I'm the one who has to tell Marco and he's absolutely gonna kick my ass, but...I can't help but be kinda proud?"

Ace splutters. _"What?!"_

Izo only rolls his eyes. "Of course you are."

Thatch shrugs helplessly at the pair, Ace in particular when he becomes the target of said teen's heated glare. "Well, I can't help it! I mean, _we're_ the ones who usually cause trouble. What the hell could Sabo have done in _one night_ to piss the Marines off bad enough to warrant a _bounty_?"

Ace doesn't want to know. He really, _really_ doesn't want to know.

But then Haruta cranes his neck, staring down the path they've just come from. "Probably whatever the hell they're yelling about," he says, pointing.

Five pairs of eyes blink at once. Five heads turn to follow Haruta's finger.

Ace can't deny that he yelps, a high pitched thing he'll never live down, at the sight of over a _dozen_ Navy officers stampeding down the cobblestone street like a herd of wildebeests, prompting all in their path to throw themselves out of the way lest they're mercilessly trampled. All of them are shouting, cursing, waving swords and guns in the air recklessly, vowing retribution. Leading the charge is a rather big man, bandages wrapped tight around his forehead, his face red with rage and a mess of purple bruises and healing cuts, his nose undoubtedly broken.

It's quite a sight, one that might've had Ace laughing at the sheer lunacy. If not for the fact that ahead of the big guy _,_ grinning like devils and running like the wind, are Sabo and Koala.

 _Of course._

"STOP RIGHT THERE, BRATS!" Big Guy hollers. "YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR ASSAULTING NAVY OFFICERS AND BREAKING CURFEW! GET BACK HERE!"

...ah.

Well then.

Sabo and Koala, of course, do not stop. If anything, they run faster, grinning wider through exhausted pants, wholly delighted. Sabo finally notices the Whitebeard's and his brothers up ahead, blankly staring, and he waves bright and cheerful, not at all like he's running for his life from a seething legion of Marines. "Hey guys!" he calls. "You might wanna start running!"

It's also only then that Ace (and the commanders) belatedly realize that the chase is rapidly heading straight for them, and they've yet to move.

Thatch blinks once, twice. "Oh."

Yeah, that about sums it all up.

Ace snatches Luffy by the wrist, spins deftly on one heel and books it down the street the same time the commanders do, just as Sabo and Koala reach them. The Marines keep up the pursuit, and soon the whole town is forced to make way and bear witness to what's now become an utter clusterfrick of a wild goose chase.

Ace can only imagine what this looks like; four teenagers and four pirate commanders of an Emperor, elite fighters and hardened sailors of the Grand Line and the New World, running from a battalion of enraged Navy officers through the streets of a small island town, curses and threats and wordless war cries shattering what was once a peaceful evening.

Any other day, Ace would be having the time of his life. Luffy certainly is; his laughter almost drowns the chorus of anger blazing at their backs, and Ace can't blame him. This isn't too dissimilar to when they were pint-sized brats, ducking and weaving through crowds of entitled nobility to shake off angry chefs and policemen, all of them after their hides for whatever shenanigans they'd pulled that day. It's an unexpected blast from the past Ace hadn't realized he's missed so much until now.

This time, however...

"BO, YOU ARE SO DEAD!" Ace shouts over the cacophony of literally _everything else,_ feet pounding furiously as he pushes his body to run faster, keep Luffy between him and the blond idiot, keep pace with the commanders who sprint like athletes a few feet ahead. God, no wonder they're never caught. "What the hell were you thinking?! What did you _do?!"_

Sabo has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah...it's a long story –"

"Well make it short! And it better be good, 'cos you're _so_ in for it later!"

"Assuming we don't get caught!" Izo says, and he really looks a little ridiculous, robes and hair fluttering wildly as he runs. He then looks over the boys heads and smiles at Koala. "By the way, young lady, I don't believe we've officially met. I'm Izo, Sixteenth Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates."

"Thatch, Fourth Commander, how you doin'!" Thatch chimes with a two fingered salute and a charming grin.

"Twelfth Commander Haruta, what up!" Hartua throws up a peace sign.

"Third Commander Jozu, pleasure," Jozu grunts from the back of the pack.

Easily matching Sabo's pace on the blonde's left (not looking worn or harried in the slightest, just who is this woman?), Koala smiles back sweetly. Ace doesn't buy it. "I'm Kay, nice to meet all of you! Sabo's told me so much about your adventures so far, he really seems to love –"

"Wait a sec," Thatch holds up a hand, and how is he still running that fast and not looking where he's going? Does the idiot _want_ to trip and break his neck? "I thought your name was Koala? Or is Kay just a nickname?"

Koala blinks at him, the cheery smile dropped so quickly that it gives Ace whiplash. "...how'd you know that?" She cuts a look at Sabo that's...decidedly scary, Ace has to admit. Almost reminds him of Dadan when she's actually trying.

His twin seems to recognize the danger and holds up his hands in surrender. "Don't look at me! I said nothing!" he cries.

"Actually you did," Haruta says, "back in the park, you said 'God Koala, keep up with the' – _ow!"_

Both Izo and Thatch simultaneously whack the younger commander upside the head, hissing threats, but they're too late. Sabo stares at them, wide eyed. Horror, embarrassment, anger and shock flash across his face in quick succession, and then –

" _You were spying on me?! You followed me?!"_ he shouts, cheeks cherry red. Koala, on her part, just looks mildly annoyed. "What the hell, you guys?!"

"Hey, _you_ don't get to be pissed at us!" Ace counters, jabbing a finger into Sabo's chest over Luffy's head, the boy in question paying no mind to any of this. "You're the one who snuck out, lied to my face, beat up a Marine and got your face plastered over every other damned building in town!"

Sabo slaps the hand away, truly annoyed. "But you were _spying_ on us! That's a gross invasion of privacy!"

"We know, we know," Izo huffs. "We weren't trying to be overbearing or stalk you at all; we just wanted to see one of our youngest off on his first date!"

"Whu – _date?!_ This – that wasn't a –!"

"HEY! QUIT ARGUIN' AMONG YOURSELVES AND HALT ALREADY!" The Big Guy, still leading the charge, barks at their backs. The group of wanted felons (bar two) collectively glance behind.

"Oh yeah," Thatch mutters, "I forgot about those guys."

"We are literally running through the streets like morons, how can you possibly forget that we're being chased?!" Ace squawks. Thatch shrugs.

"Dunno. I kinda tuned 'em out. Actually, I assumed we'd already lost 'em."

"You moron!"

"Alright, alright that's enough!" Izo huffs, effortlessly picking up speed. One hand lips into the sleeve of his robe, pulling out a glistening pistol. "Ace, take your brothers and Koala back to the boat. Tell Rakuyo to prepare for departure ASAP."

Ace nods, setting his ire aside for now and snatching both his brothers' wrists, ignoring Sabo's indignant grumbling. "What about you guys?" he asks, not that he's worried at all.

Thatch beams at the teen, already brandishing his sabres; there's a glint in his eye that Ace recognizes, half manic and hungry for a fight. "We'll hold 'em off. Don't look back or stop for anything. We'll meet up at the docks soon enough, trust me. This won't take long."

Haruta whoops with glee unbridled, sword in hand, and Jozu's smirk is wolfish, left arm encased in diamonds in the blink of an eye. As one, all four commanders skid seamlessly to a halt against the polished stone, facing their new foes. The boys and Koala don't stop, don't look back, but it's an effort. Were they to linger, Ace might finally get to witness Whitebeard Pirates in action, not confined to the rules of a harmless spar or the railings of _Moby._ Alas, he's got two brothers and his (not) date to watch out for, an order to follow (for the first time willingly).

Maybe next time.

Instead, Ace turns back to Sabo. Sabo stares back. "I'm still waiting for that explanation," he growls.

Sabo chuckles nervously, tugging his wrist from Ace's hot grip. Ace lets him. "I'll tell you when we get back to the boat, shall I?" he says. "Assuming that's where we're heading, 'cos I've already forgotten the way back."

"You're hopeless," Koala pipes up. She starts to drift from the brothers, slowing down gradually. "Keep going down this street, then turn left. Docks should be right there."

Sabo looks back at her, brow raised. "You're not coming?"

Koala shakes her head. "Much as I'd like a good reason to hide from my superiors and avoid another earful from Hack, I can't. Cover or no, I've still got a job to do, and a new deadline to boot." She offers a smile, with a hint of playful mischief Ace doesn't expect but idly thinks he should have. "I'll tell the others what you said. In the meantime, you'd better make good on your word! No slacking off, no backing down!"

Sabo grins at her, a hint of a blush that he's making no effort to hide. "Wouldn't dream of it! I look forward to working with you, Koala!"

Koala huffs something of a laugh. "Considering what's already happened in less than twenty-four hours...I'm a little on the fence. Certain you'll make things a little more interesting, though!"

With that, Koala takes a sharp right, disappearing into an alleyway faster than Ace can blink, which he does, rapidly. Sabo doesn't take his eyes off that alley, an odd new look in his eye that Ace can't place, until they're taking the next left. Then he's off again, goading Ace and Luffy into catching up, to "quit lagging, slow-pokes!"

It works a treat for Luffy, never one to back down from a chance to best his brothers (that'll be the day). Ace lets the two shoot on ahead, lagging behind to look back over his shoulder, staring after Koala's cold trail.

Just who the hell was she? Ace can trust her (or so he hopes...maybe Luffy can help in that regard) but he still needs answers, and soon. If Sabo's going to be traveling with her, and if what's happened today is going to _keep happening,_ he needs to know if she and her people will look after him in the absence of _–_

Luffy's startled cry, followed by Sabo's vulgar curse, freezes the blood in Ace's veins.

A deep, breathless chuckle, and the sound of a cocking gun –

 _No._

 _No, God,_ _ **no.**_

Ace dashes after his brothers, heart in his throat. He finds them easily enough, only a few feet from the boat. But standing in their path, breathing ragged, eyes manic with unbridled rage and a sick sort of satisfaction, is the Big Guy from earlier. How the hell he could've managed to slip past _four_ of Whitebeard strongest commanders and track them here, Ace doesn't know, but he's not too inclined to care.

Not with the bastard staring his little brothers down like a rabid predator.

Not when he's got a gun pointed at Sabo's chest.

Fear surges through Ace anew, fists trembling with it. Dammit dammit _dammit_ why did he stop? Why didn't he follow them instead of staring after some mystery girl? _He_ should have a gun pointed at him, not Sabo, who's already suffered once. Not Sabo, who can't handle situations like this yet without switching from one extreme to the other, each with their own detriment.

He was laughing and joking before – he knew he'd be safe, knew he could get away once the commanders showed up, knew they'd all be okay. But this guy...he's _huge,_ bigger and stronger than any of those hunters back on Tundra, and he's already been shot once, god, he's gonna die, gonna switch again –

But Sabo doesn't switch. Doesn't quiver or draw back at all, even as the bastard presses the barrel of the gun into the center of his chest.

His fingers twitch where his hands are raised in surrender, but only a little, a barely there sign that he's nervous at all. There's not a hint of fear in Sabo's eyes as he stares the man down, Luffy clutching the fabric of his coat where the blond no doubt pushed the boy behind him. Instead, he stands tall, chin up, shoulders squared.

Ace stares, frozen. What...?

And then Sabo smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Hello again, Mr. Marine," he says, his tone perfectly conversational, pleasant, and a wholly disturbing thing when paired with an arctic smile. "Can I help you?"

The Big Guy grunts, veins popping in his bandaged forehead. But Ace would be a fool not to notice the steady trickle of sweat down the man's brow...like _he's_ nervous. Of _Sabo._

"Don't play dumb with me ya little brat!" he snarls, pushing the gun deeper against Sabo's chest. Luffy tightens his grip on his brother's coat, fury blazing in his eyes. Sabo widens his stance only slightly, keeping the younger boy behind him. "You assaulted an officer and resisted arrest _twice_! Ya think you're only gettin' a slap on the wrist for this? Jail time? Nah. Ya screwed with the Navy, pal. We have the right to exact absolute justice on criminal _scumbags_ like you."

Ace knows he has to move. Knows he has to get this arrogant waste of flesh away from his brothers, reduce him to ashes for even _daring_ to touch them, threaten them, _point another goddamned gun at them_ and think for a minute he'll get away alive. But he doesn't. He's rooted to the spot, wide eyed and conflicted, staring at his twin...

He wants to be mad, _furious,_ scared out of his damn mind, because Sabo's never been this stupid, this reckless in all the years he's known him, not before nor after everything went to hell. It was always the other way around for them, before Luffy; Ace gets them into trouble, Sabo gets them out of it, lecturing Ace all while tending to his scrapes and bloody wounds, hiding his worry behind a mask of annoyance. Whatever happened last night threw that dynamic out the window, unearthing a whole new form of chaos Ace could never expect; Sabo could've been thrown in prison last night, _killed,_ and Ace would never have known until it was too late Sabo _you freaking_ _ **idiot.**_

Ace wants to be furious. But he watches Sabo now, standing tall in the presence of this lumbering hulk of a brute, furious and athirst for blood, watches him tilt his head and _smirk,_ dripping with confidence and a showy display of disdain, the shadows cast under the brim of his hat setting his eyes aglow _–_

"Don't act so surprised," Sabo says. "You're the one sexually assaulting women in the streets and threatening to kill two teenagers under Whitebeard's protection. You asked for it."

And Ace is so damn _**proud.**_

Sabo is standing up for himself. Sabo, who'd sooner duck his head like a cowering pup, fall to his knees and apologize, beg for his life and theirs, is _talking back_ to a freaking _Marine._ And he hasn't switched.

Quick to blink away the tears that prick his eyes, pride swells within Ace that he just might explode with it. Behind Sabo, Luffy glows like the sun itself, beaming from ear to ear.

He's still gonna get it later. But he'll let him have this moment. He deserves it, has more than earned it.

 _Welcome back, Sabo._

Big Guy doesn't seem to share the sentiment, unfortunate features twisting into an even uglier snarl. _"Don't screw with me, kid!"_ he bellows, his voice carrying across the docks.

It reaches their little ship, and Ace can just see Rakuyo rearing his head from the bowels of the vessel, surprised. It takes him half a second to spot Ace, spot his brothers and the waste of air brandishing his gun at the pair, and then he's leaping over the railing, charging straight for them with a speed the freckled teen never thought the man capable of.

Big Guy doesn't notice, too focused on glaring Sabo down like a venomous insect, stalling quite a bit in carrying out the threat he's issued several times. Sabo _does_ notice, a barely there glance to the left of the Marine. His smile loses its chill, but it's still nothing close to genuine. "Hey, Mr. Marine," he chimes. "Ya _might_ wanna duck."

Big Guy blinks. "...what?"

Rakuyo's on him in an instant, clocking the bastard over the head with a spiked club (he'd left his... _living_ one back on the Moby. Ace still has no idea how that works, and doesn't plan on asking.) The man drops like a stone, unconscious and bleeding profusely, crumpled in a disgraceful heap with his ass in the air. He doesn't get up again.

Ace lets out a shaky breath. They're safe. It's over.

Rakuyo huffs, swiping an arm over his sweaty brow, the other hand on his hip once he drops the club. "Close call there," he chuckles heartily. "Honestly, I was expectin' more, but I guess somebody softened 'im up a little." He turns to Luffy and Sabo, the latter clinging to the older like the giddy rubber limpet he is. Ace joins them, looking Sabo over if only to assure himself that his brother is well and truly in one piece. Rakuyo seems to do the same, one hand on Sabo's shoulder, the other giving Luffy's hat a fond pat. "You brats alright? What're you three doin' by yourselves? The hell happened to the others? They were supposed to be watchin' you."

Sabo offers a chuckle that's only slightly guilty. Luffy's eyes shift to the left, lips pursed, sweat gathering along his brow. Ace scratches the back of his head, the toe of his boot scuffing the ground.

Rakuyo looks at each of them. He lets Sabo and Luffy go and steps back, both hands on his hips like the textbook parent. "What'd you do _this_ time?" he sighs.

"Eh...it's a long story," Sabo admits, and shoots Ace a half glare when the older teen scoffs. "But we're okay, the other commanders are just, ah...stalling a legion of pissed off Marines for us while we make our escape?"

Rakuyo is nodding along amiably at first, only to do a hilarious double-take, eyes bugging wide. "Wait, what now? Legion of –?"

"RAK! GET THE KIDS ON THE FREAKIN' SHIP!"

They whip around, startled, only to find the aforementioned commanders scrambling towards them. Seems they didn't quite manage to fend off their pursuers, rather they've brought _another_ angry stampede of officers, spewing curses at the pirates' retreating backs like bullets. Odd that they're not spewing _actual_ bullets, but whatever.

Rakuyo's jaw drops. "What in the f–?"

"The bastards brought backup! We're haulin' ass outta here let's go let's go let's _go_!" Thatch hollers, sheathing his swords and snagging Luffy in a bridal carry on his way past. Luffy goes with a surprised squeak, one arm around Thatch's shoulders to steady himself, the other stretching to catch his hat when it flies off his head at the ludicrous speed the chef is going. Ace doesn't even have time to laugh before he, too, is swept off his feet by Jozu, tucked under the man's massive arm like luggage. He hears Sabo squawk from behind, and then Rakuyo ambles past him and the third commander, club in one hand and Sabo thrown over the other shoulder, clenching the back of the pirate's shirt like a wet cat for balance.

This would all be incredibly hilarious, maybe even touching – it really shouldn't surprise him how prepared these men are for to fight or flee for three stowaways that've caused them nothing but trouble, but it does, every time – if not for the fact that they've managed to anger and alert the island's _entire_ law enforcement in less that two days and are now fleeing for their lives, the boys being tossed aboard like pieces of meat in the mad rush to set sail before they're caught.

One might think they're doomed as the Marines loom ever closer. But the Whitebeard's are nothing if not efficient; they cut the line, raise the anchor, and are sailing away before even one officer can hope to get aboard. It's only _now_ that the idiots remember they have guns and start shooting, and of course they miss, by miles and inches, and soon give up.

Once they're far enough away, everyone sags in relief against whatever surface, be it the rail, or in Thatch's case, the floor.

"Safe at last," Haruta says with a muffled groan where he's face-planted against the wheelhouse.

"Doo doo d'doo d'doo," Thatch adds tiredly. Haruta sniggers briefly, no energy left to do more than that.

Ace lets himself collapse against the railing, exhausted to his bones. What was supposed to be a peaceful shopping trip had quite dramatically turned on its head at the flip of a coin, but really, they should've seen this coming. Marco and Whitebeard especially, the latter being the one to suggest they come with in the first place. Seriously, what was that old fool thinking?

But it's the thought of Marco sends sudden shivers down Ace's spine. He's yet to see Marco truly angry, but through what he's heard via gossip from the other crewmen, it's not pretty at _all._ And here Ace thought he'd have a little more time to prepare for his death. Great. He and Luffy are both gonna get chewed out, and it's all Sabo's freaking fault, the bastard...

Speaking of Sabo, Ace stands from his weary slouch to turn and _finally_ rip him a new one, early pride be damned...

And yet again, he holds his tongue.

The blond pays no mind to anyone on the boat, not even Luffy as he slides next to him to stare at his face, curiously tilting his head this way and that. Instead, Sabo's gaze is drawn to the rapidly disappearing island town...to the tiny figure perched atop the pristine structure of the clock tower, waving them off.

 _Koala_?

When Sabo smiles this time, its small and soft, almost yearning, and he raises an arm to wave back at the figure growing smaller and smaller. He doesn't stop until the little island is out of sight at last, his arm slowly falling back his side, smile fading until there's nothing left of it but a determined line.

The spark in his eyes, new and bright with a new hope, a new _drive,_ remains.

 _'Ah damn,'_ Ace inwardly groans. He doesn't have the heart to chew his idiot brother out yet, despite every opening he's had, despite having every _right_ to kick his ass right here and now. But dammit...he's _missed_ this version of his best friend. The boy he met in the Grey Terminal coming up seven years ago, the boy who accepted the part of him he'd learned to despise, the boy he grew up with, pillaged and played and suffered and fought side by side with...

Ace has missed his brother. And for the first time in forever, he's finally got him back.

With a huff to fight off the lump in his throat, Ace turns back to the railing to stare out at the endless blue around them, idly looking for any sign or tell of the _Moby_ nearby. Once they get home – _there,_ once they get _there –_ Ace will chew him out something fierce, if the commanders (or Marco) don't beat him to it. Until then, he'll bide his time. Let Sabo bask in what he's finally regained.

Actually, a nap sounds pretty good right about now. Hardly the time for it; they've yet to put away their shopping properly, and the commanders are going to want an explanation sooner rather than later, but five minutes of shut-eye certainly wouldn't –

 _Thump._

"Whoa, what the heck was – _Ace?!"_

"Oh what _now_ – holy crap!"

"Ace? _Ace!_ Oh my god, Ace, wake up! C'mon big brother, get up! Ace!"

"Oh jeez oh jeez oh mother sea! Did – did he get shot, did anyone see him get hurt –?!"

"I don't see a wound, no blood – Rakuyo, boys, stand back. Give Ace some room."

"Right, right – c'mere Loof, Sabo. It's alright, brats, Ace'll be fine –"

"He just collapsed, how is _that_ fine?!"

"Wait, hold on a sec...is...is he _snoring?"_

"..."

"Holy crap, he is."

"...he just...fell asleep? Just like that?"

"Seems Whiskey's assumptions might be right after all. Poor dear might actually have a condition."

"...jeez, you kids are gonna be the end of us, swear to god."

" _Now_ you sound like Marco – oh _god_ Marco's gonna kill us all when we get home. No, actually, how about we just _don't_ go back to the _Moby_ at all _,_ sail as far away as possible and start a new, happy life on a deserted island where no one will ever –"

"Haruta, I'm giving you two seconds to shut the hell up."

"...sorry."

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

The moon is full tonight, already high in the black abyss of night, casting brilliant white rays against the flat calm of the sea. In the distance, however, a small island town shines like a beacon against the dark, brighter than even the moon. If one listens close enough, you can hear music blaring, voices cheering in delighted chorus.

Koala leans against the railing of their unmarked ship, chin in her hands and a smile on her face, content as she watches the party rage on with wonderful abandon. An earlier look at the time showed that it was well past ten o'clock, and yet the townsfolk show no signs of winding things down. Good. Lord knows how long they've waited for this.

The mission, despite certain...setbacks, had gone smooth enough, everything according to plan if a few minutes behind schedule. The so-called 'rulers' were successfully overthrown, the islands' inhabitants freed from an unjust system, all before the hand struck eight. Another job well done. Another celebration they won't stick around for.

They don't do it for the fame, the fortune, or even the credit most days. It's all for a good, common cause, a right that all should have no matter their backgrounds, status or race. The gratitude, the look of relief and glee on every child's face, is enough for her.

More than enough for their cause, the long road on the path to true freedom for all.

"Taking in the sights?"

Koala doesn't startle, but it's a near thing. She straightens instead, looks over her shoulder, and offers a smile to the imposing height of her leader as he ascends from below decks, cloak billowing in the light breeze. He comes to stand beside her, footfalls eerily silent against the wooden floorboards, narrowed eyes gazing ahead at the glowing town.

"The view _is_ lovely," she says. "Looks even better without that clock tower, don't you think?"

A huff of a laugh, "Yes, I'd have to agree," Dragon says. "You did good work out there, despite Hack's grievances. Valid grievances, I might add, but even so."

At that, Koala has to wince. She'd gotten twice the earful from Hack after the second wild chase in two days, even though it wasn't _completely_ her fault. Thankfully, she won't face any harsh reprimands or demotions; she's still rather new to field missions, and they'd gotten the job done regardless of the blunders. Both her instructor and her leader have decided to let it slide, just this once, to which Koala is thankful for.

"That reminds me," Dragon says suddenly. Koala blinks from her reverie and looks up (and up) to meet his eye. They're intense, thoughtful as ever, but the lines in his face are softened. "Bunny Joe mentioned the possible new recruit you met," he continues, "a young blond, about your age, named Sabo. He was the one who took those exceptional pictures went sent to Navy HQ, correct?"

Brightening despite herself, Koala nods. "That he is. And the one who beat up that one Marine that tried to take advantage of me that first night. And the one that got us chased by about a _dozen_ officers afterwards, _twice,_ and is a dramatic idiot with no self-preservation, who doesn't quite understand the concept of secrecy and should _never_ be allowed near Ivankov under any circumstances –"

"You seem rather fond of him."

Koala blinks once, twice. Dragon quirks a brow, a tilt to his lips that's _almost_ a smirk.

Cheeks flushing, Koala pouts. "...I didn't say that," she mutters.

"You didn't have to." Dragon turns back to the town, festivities still going strong, and Koala's glad for it; he can't see her face grow any redder. "Tell me more about him. From what I've heard from the others, he seems like he'd fit right in among us, trouble-making habits notwithstanding."

Koala chuckles, cheeks finally losing their heat, as she braces her hands on the railing, facing the wide expanse of an endless sea. "Well, they're not wrong. He's really passionate about our cause, really seems to want this as much as we do. The only reason he's not here now is because he, according to him, needs to settle a few things, get better and stronger. I told him about the training we provide at Baltigo – Hack even offered to train him personally if he's that concerned – but he insisted he wait."

Dragon hums. "Any particular reason why?"

"A sentimental value to the number seventeen."

"...pardon?"

Koala smirks. "Sorry, no – it's a promise he and his brothers made, to set out at seventeen to fulfill their goals. Not a bad plan, I suppose. With that, he'll be training with the Whitebeard's of all crews. Can't get much better than that, I'll admit."

"Edward Newgate does indeed posses some of the finest fighters in the New World, yes. The lad will learn much under his commanders, if not under Newgate himself."

"Let's hope the man doesn't decide to adopt him before we can get to him though, right?"

Another quirk of his lips. "A valid concern, yes. And what of his brothers? Have they any interest?"

Koala shrugs, shaking her head. "Never thought to ask, or even got the chance to. Ace doesn't seem like the type from what I've seen and heard from Sabo – he'd be a better fit on Whitebeard's crew I wager – and little Luffy's apparently going to be the next King of the –"

" _Luffy?"_

Koala freezes. Looks up at Dragon, and almost regrets it.

The man is stiff as a rod, eyes impossibly wide as he stares at her. It's not a look Koala has ever seen on her leader, a man known to all to be practically immovable, the solid rock on which the Revolution was built. The man before her is something different, something exposed, almost vulnerable _,_ like a simple breeze could knock him down.

Koala blinks, swallows thickly. "...um...s-sir?"

Dragon blinks back, and suddenly mask shifts back into place, though the intensity never leaves his eyes, never leaves his ridged frame. His fists clench at his sides. "Koala," he says roughly. "What did you say that boy's name was?"

Something spikes the air and shifts the wind, the light breeze growing into something stronger, little by little. The waves rock the boat to an unsteady beat, and Koala suddenly feels very small under the man's gaze – she can see, _feel_ the shock flowing off him behind the solid foundations of his composure, the spiraling confusion...

Yet still, she meets those eyes and answers – "Luffy. Sabo said his name was Luffy. I didn't get a last name, but I met him. He's small, twelve-years-old, black hair and brown eyes, tanned skin and a scar under his left eye, left by a knife I think. He also has a familiar looking straw hat, and he's mute, unfortunately, but perfectly fluent in Sign Language."

Silence. Dragon continues to regard her. Koala stares back, fighting the urge to fidget.

A blink, and just like that the pressure is gone. The wind settles, the waves calm, the shock fades away. Breathless, Koala is left to reel and wonder what the _hell_ just happened, while the man appears to collect himself, clearing his throat and stepping away from the railing. The young red head watches him carefully, concerned and confused. "...sir?" she asks bravely. "Do you...do you know him, or something?"

Dragon blinks only once. Then he turns, cloak swishing behind him, and slowly makes his way across the deck to his quarters. Koala balks. "Uh, s-sir –?"

"That'll be all, Koala," he says, not once looking at her. "Thank you. Tell the chef I'll be down for dinner shortly. I've got a call to make."

And then he's gone. Koala shivers.

'Make a call,' he'd said. A mundane thing among many.

So why did it sound more like he was going to murder someone?


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N~ HEEEEEY! I finally finished this beast of a chapter! I didn't even mean for it to be that long - the final word count is _somehow_ 12,381! WHAT?!  
**

 **So glad you guys enjoyed the last chapter, because I certainly did. And because I love you all I'm uploading this in the middle of the night with a pounding headache because otherwise it'll be another week before I can do anything XD**

 **Special mentions!**

 **CanIHaveAHug - I'd rather you LIVED, hon, but thank you! And yes, capturing the essence of One Piece with a goofy chase was exactly what i was going for XD Thanks for the review and I LOVE YOU!**

 **YourHomeGirlJen - Damn, so glad you like it so far! Don't worry, I have a few more surprises in store for ya!**

 **DemonKittyAngel - Garp is DECEASED :) joking, but Dragon ain't a happy lizard. So glad you like the way I write Koala, I'll probs link you to the writers who inspired me for her bits! Thanks for the review!**

 **Llama - Thanks so much for reviewing - don't worry, Marco's past is coming soon, and Mei...well, you'll see :)**

 **VisitorNo.18 - Thank you SO MUCH XD I actually don't have a beta reader for my fics at the moment, so I'm mostly on my own for this, but I've always found snarky banter comes easily to me being a sister to four other siblings with silver tongues XD so glad you like them XD**

 **Andy - HI ANDY! Whew, reading your reactions is just the best XD I do love my phrases, so much fun! I think you'll enjoy this chapter!**

 **Guys, I'm _so_ sorry that i can't respond to everyone but I have a huge headache and i gotta sleep :'( But I love and value each and every one of you for all your support and encouragement, never forget that 3**

 **WARNING FOR SENSITIVE THEMES IN THE FIRST PART OF THIS CHAPTER. IF YOU'RE TRIGGERED AT ALL, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.**

 **I OWN NOTHING.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 27**

 _Mei is hiding something._

 _For all that she's good at being the center of attention, hamming it up for the guards, the servants and the King himself when the lights are on and the stage is set, playing the part of the beautiful, desirable young woman for the masses...when the lights go out, and it's just the two of them, the mask comes off, revealing the frightened, sickened young girl underneath. Ace is the only one to see_ that _girl, and he hates it with the same burning passion that flows through his veins, so he banishes her with the odd tale of his early childhood, how Luffy is progressing with his Sign and how quickly Sabo has picked up the intricate moves of their 'dance', though he's as ungainly as a foal in comparison to them – a joke, of course, mean but with just enough cheer to make her laugh._

 _It does the trick, and the girl whose smiles are real and aglow with mirth, cheeks flushed with quiet laughter in the rare privacy of the dressing room, comes out of the shell. Ace much prefers this girl over any of her facades._

 _The last few nights, however, have been...different. She's not as talkative, receptive to what tricks and tactics that usually do wonders for their moods. And her eyes are tired, more than he's ever seen her – it's not the exhaustion that stems from a long day of endless twirls and leaps and cartwheels that make your eyes spin and your back ache. This is a weariness stemming from the body, mind and_ soul. _A weariness that Ace knows well, and would never wish on anyone. Well,_ almost _anyone._

 _She deflects every time he asks. He's never been the best at offering emotional support; that's always been Sabo's thing, or even Makino's, but damn it to hell Ace_ tries, _harder now than ever before with Sabo on the brink of crumbling and Luffy's...silence still grating on them all. And it stings, a little, when those efforts go to waste on the only other person Ace dares to let himself care about._

" _I'm fine," she'll say. "Just tired. I will be feeling much better tomorrow. Don't worry about me, Ace."_

 _He doesn't believe her, nor does he believe the smile plastered along her lips that cracks like glass. But he lets it go, because...well, what else can he do?_

 _A few nights later, Mei can't hide any longer._

 _The night is over, Ace's bones and muscles screaming at him with exhaustion from the three sets they've done with only three twenty minute breaks in between – how generous of the King to grant them even that – and they're ushered back into the room, sea stone shackled secured to the boy's ankle and the door bolted shut behind them. He heaves a sigh and flops onto the nearest stool. It's not comfortable by any means, but he's sitting, that's all that matters._

" _I dunno about you," he says idly to the room at large, "but I can't feel my toes. Or my legs. Or my arms. Did you have to pick the most difficult set?"_

 _Silence answers him. Ace blinks, looks up. "Mei? Did'ja hear me –?"_

 _He pauses._

 _Mei is standing in front of the mirror, staring at herself. Her eyes are utterly_ haunted, _her complexion ghostly pale in the dim light – a far contrast to the girl she'd been moments prior among the entitled masses of nobility, as usual, but this is_ frightening.

 _Swallowing hard, Ace rises from the stool and slowly moves over to her. He reaches out, but he doesn't dare touch her. "Mei? Can you...are you –?"_

" _He was watching me."_

 _Ace almost jumps. Her voice, accented and always alive in some way no matter her mood, is devoid of any life at all. Like it's been all but sucked out of her, leaving nothing but..._ this _behind. Ace swallows again. "What...what d'you mean 'he' was watching you? Who's he? The King? Everyone was watching you, both of us –"_

" _No," she interjects. "Not them. The guard."_

 _Ace blinks again. "A guard was watching you?" Mei nods jerkily, life returning to her eyes at last...but it's fear that takes hold._

 _There are guards posted at each door throughout the night, two of which have one of Ace's brothers handcuffed to them to remind Ace of what will happen if he dares to rebel (like he'd ever forget.) They usually keep their eyes on the crowds, those less vigilant or bored staring into space and yawning or chatting with the nearest guard. None of them ever really look at the stage, not even when Ace and Mei are up there, literal sparks flying as Ace lets his flames dance while he has the chance._

 _But now that Mei mentions it...Ace_ has _been feeling eyes on him the last few nights, sometimes during the day; in the hall, in the ballroom when he's scrubbing the floors, but mostly on the stage. It's always from one spot, too, somewhere to the left, nearest to the stage..._

 _...that's right. A guard_ has _been watching them, for a good while too. That in itself might not faze Ace too much – he's grown used to being ogled at, and any bastard that thinks he'll go down without a fight will be sorely mistaken – but it is a little odd. And if Mei is this disturbed..._

 _She moves, whirling on him so suddenly that Ace_ does _jump, and her eyes are wide with terror. Ace has never seen her like this in the three years he's known her, and her terror nearly becomes his own at the sight of her. "Mei –!"_

" _I could feel someone watching me, all week I could feel them," Mei says, stumbling over her words like she can't get them out fast enough, hands trembling where she's braced them against her chest. "I-I finally caught him tonight, j-just as we were finishing and – and he was_ smiling, _Ace, the guard was smiling but it was not a good smile, it was – his eyes were – there was a horrible feeling in his eyes and his smile, Ace, I-I cannot describe it I'm sorry – a-and then he followed us until we got to the room –!"_

" _Hey, hey, Mei, slow down." Ace finally reaches for her proper, putting his hands on her shoulders. The lingering warmth in his palms seems to settle her somewhat, and she takes several gulping, greedy breathes, blinking hard and rapid. Ace lets her, and squeezes just a little. "It's okay, Mei, you're okay. You're alright. Just...just take a few breathes, you're alright."_

 _He's only ever had to do this with Sabo and Luffy, only ever in the confines of their cell. Never did it cross him that Mei might need this, too. The idea that she wasn't as steady and collected as he'd thought never crossed him even once, and he feels awful for it._

 _He feels even worse when tears start to well up in her eyes when she finally raises her head. Ace tenses, almost backing off completely – he can handle crying little brothers but damn him to hell and back again if he knows what to do when a girl starts crying –_

" _I'm scared."_

 _Ace freezes. All thoughts grind to a halt, all his senses fixed on Mei and Mei alone. Her shoulders and bottom lip tremble, tears dripping one by down down her face, smearing her make-up. "I – I'm scared, Ace. The guards, they...they have access to every room in the castle save for the royal family's private rooms. They can go wherever they like, they have keys and weapons...a-and that man was_ following me... _"_

 _She's crying in earnest now, tears cascading down her cheeks non-stop, breaths hitching on every sob that tears from her throat. It's a horrible sound, Ace_ hates _it, but he's frozen with horror of a different kind because he knows, now, understands this new fear that's been plaguing her for days, perhaps weeks...or perhaps since she was caught in the first place._

 _The guards can and will do as they please. They can smack you around, taunt you with food, beat you within an inch of your life or simply end it (Sabo had to see that, and Ace swears that guard will be the first to die when they get free) whenever they feel like it. There are no shortage of slaves to collect, not for the King, if one or two go 'missing'._

 _But Ace hadn't thought of the other implications of that power. Hadn't put the pieces together when he saw some female slaves, some younger than Ace, getting dragged from their cell during the night and returned hours later, limping terribly and crying, or numb to the core, or dragged along the floor unconscious. Ace always assumed they were beaten by the guards for fun – he wouldn't put it past those bastards – but now..._

 _Oh. Oh god._

 _They wouldn't. They...they_ couldn't...

 _Mei's hitched hiccup snaps him from the horrid thoughts, the images conjuring in his head, and he looks down at her again just in time to meet her swirling eyes still overflowing with tears. "Ace," she whimpers, "I – I can't do this any more. I'm so scared, all the time – what if he comes into the room? What if he finds out what cell they keep me in and he goes there in the middle of the night and –?"_

 _Ace can't take it._

 _He tugs Mei forward, ignoring her startled cry, and pulls him to his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around her. She goes rigid in surprise, but he doesn't let go, not for a moment. Instead, he buries his face in her hair and holds her tighter._

 _It's the first he's ever hugged anyone but his brothers, let alone a girl, but he doesn't give a damn. Because this is_ Mei. _This is Mei, his teacher and friend (and savior, in all the little ways that matter so much) and he'll be thrice damned if he let her cry, let fear consume her...if he let her give up now._

" _He_ _ **won't**_ _," he says, almost snarls. "He won't. None of them will. I won't...I won't let them."_

 _Mei gasps softly against his shoulder, now damp with her tears. "Ace..."_

 _He gives her a final squeeze before drawing back just enough to look her in the eye, framing her face between his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the dampness on her cheeks. He swallows, breathes in deep, and decides to do an ultimately stupid thing –_

" _I swear to you," Ace says, "that I won't let_ anything _happen to you, Mei. If that guard follows you or even thinks about lookin' at you again, I'll kick his ass. Hell, I'll kill 'em if I have to."_

 _Mei gasps again, shaking her head as much as she can between Ace's hands. "No, no, Ace you can't, they will –!"_

" _I don't give a damn if I'm punished for it!" Ace shouts, startling her. He doesn't mean to, but he goes on regardless. "They can beat me all they want, I don't_ care! _You said you wanted to help me protect my little brothers, right? Well I'm gonna protect you too, no matter what! But don't you_ _ **dare**_ _tell me you can't take it any more or that you're giving up, 'cos you're stronger than me, stronger than all of us! If they try and get you and I'm not there, you_ fight _them, Mei, you fight them off just like how you taught me, and you keep fighting. Don't you ever give up, you hear me?!"_

 _Mei stares at him, wide eyed and speechless. Ace lets go of her face to take her hands instead, clasping them tight, like she'd done only a few years prior, when they'd made their first promise. They're still so small in his, almost dainty, but Ace knows better, has always known. And so should she._

" _You didn't let me give up, so I won't let you," he says, softer now. "We've got each others backs. We're partners in more than just dancing. And we're gonna get outta here, Mei, all four of us. We're gonna get out together, and it'll be all thanks to you." He offers a smile, small in nature but with every ounce of warmth left in him. "You look out for me and my brothers, and we'll look out for you. We don't leave any of our own behind. Okay?"_

 _Mei just stares at him a moment longer, like she's searching for a lie that's not there, for an ounce of hesitation that Ace stomps down fervently before it can manifest. Eventually, though tears do spring in her eyes, her cheeks dimple with her new, soft smile. "...okay," she says, barely a whisper, and sniffs once more before rubbing her cheek against her shoulder to dry the remnant tears. "Okay. I will remember that, Ace. I will keep fighting as long as you do the same. I...I won't give up again. I promise."_

 _Her smile widens, bright and full and real. Violet eyes glow in the lamplight, the color and_ life _returning and flourishing across her features like blooming flowers; the sight of it does something to Ace's heart and it_ soars _–_

 _Then she leans in. Ace blinks, and suddenly her lips are against his left cheek, a barely there touch that's gone again so quickly he's half certain he'd dreamed it. But then she's pulling back and beaming, wide and mischievous, and Ace realizes –_

 _Oh holy hell she just kissed him._

 _Ace_ feels _his face heat up beyond measure, mouth flapping open and shut like a flytrap with a_ problem, _no sounds coming out apart from a garble of embarrassing nonsense. Mei only giggles, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his middle and rest her cheek on his shoulder, content. Ace's hands just hover awkwardly above her back for a moment or two, his brain scrambled beyond repair because she just freaking_ _ **kissed**_ _him on the cheek what in the –_

" _Thank you, Ace," she says._

 _Ace blinks once, twice, lets his arms fall so they encircle her once more. He lets himself smile, hods her closer as he would Luffy after a nightmare or Sabo the night he'd watched a slave die, and_ _ **dares**_ _them, the guards, the King or the world, to come after Mei. He_ _ **dares**_ _them._

 _He might not always be around. But when he is, Ace will fight to the death for her if he has to. He won't lose anyone here. He'd promised Sabo and Luffy, and he's promised her. He won't lose her, won't lose any of them. He_ won't.

 _(He can't. Because it just might break him.)_

 _It's not until he's returned to his cell, both Luffy and Sabo staring at him with eyes the size of saucers, that he realizes what Mei had left behind on his cheek._

 _Sabo_ beams. _"Heyyyy~" he croons. Luffy slaps his hands over his mouth and giggles._

 _Ace grinds his teeth in a snarl in a vain effort to hide the red searing his freckled cheeks – and the pink, lip-shaped mark he'd forgotten to wipe off. "S-shut the hell up," he hisses. The two don't stop snickering for the rest of the night, until Ace is able to lull them to sleep._

 _Humiliation aside, at least they were smiling._

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Edward Newgate is a reasonable man, or he likes to think he is, at least.

He's a reasonable Captain, father, a man whom all can depend and lean on should they wish to no matter the day or hour. He leads his crew, his family, across the merciless seas of Paradise and the New World with an iron fist and a bleeding heart, never swaying to the powers that be, nor the forces or idle threats of their enemies, be they rival prates, the Navy or the Celestial Dragons themselves. He holds the title of the Strongest in the World not for his own interests, but for the sake of all who rely on him whether the bear his mark or no.

And loving though he is for those under his flag, he cannot and will not abstain from exacting suitable punishments should the need arise – tomfoolery is expected of a crew this large and so diverse in age, but things can and do go a bit too far, fights too rowdy or deleterious words sparking something ugly in one's heart, prompting Edward to step in before any flames or wounds can grow or fester.

No one ever said being a parent was easy, but what must be done must be done.

That being said...

" _Why are you laughing, yoi?!"_

Edward can't help it. He tries, he really does, for Marco's sake if nothing else, but he takes one look at the lot of them – Thatch and Ace with their faces in their hands (Thatch's attempt to hide his grin, though his shaking shoulders give him thoroughly away), Marco looking mere minutes away from crawling into the nearest grave to finally rest, Luffy snickering to himself beside the older blond, and Sabo hanging a foot off the floor where Marco has him by the back of his coat like a lion cub, curls a cheerful fact under his slanted top-hat, his grin an impish, unrepentant thing – and it sets the old man off again, head thrown back and all. It's contagious, for a few chuckles bubble up from beyond the quarter deck, even among those who aren't prying like the nosy louts they are.

It's been an hour or so since Thatch's team returned, stock, trinkets and all accounted for, but not without another outlandish misadventure of course, a product of the three little troublemakers that'd tagged along for the ride. In hindsight, they all should've seen this coming. _Edward_ should've seen this coming, and Marco _had_ warned him beforehand; two islands in a row in which these little scamps have caused a stir of some sort, be it with scumbag hunters or rival Emperors. One should know better than to let such little ones loose anywhere.

Yet, that's exactly what they did.

The real surprise, however, is that said stir had been _Sabo's_ doing this time, if the way the child is grinning and the only one Marco is holding like a scolded pup is any indication. And from what he's heard thus far, a brief summary at best, it was quite a show. Makes Edward sorry he missed it.

He simmers down enough to finally look at the bunch without snickering, but the grin doesn't falter once. "Well," he says once he's settled, "this is overdue, but welcome back, boys."

Luffy smiles brightly up at the giant of a pirate. Sabo waves, still suspended in Marco's grip. Ace raises two fingers – "Yo," he drones, utterly deadpan that it brings a smirk out of Edward. More snickers float from the peanut gallery, non of whom Marco seems to have the heart (or the will) to banish below decks for now. Really, the man just looks tired.

Edward leans forward a bit in his chair. "I see you brats have had quite the adventure."

Sabo scratches the back of his head, still grinning, a far cry from the boy he'd been two months ago – that Sabo would've been on his hands and knees by now, forehead buried against the floorboards as he begged for their lives, breaking the collective hearts of all bearing witness. _This_ Sabo does no such thing. Instead – "I'd say we did," he chimes. "May-haps gotten into a _wee_ bit o' mischief though, nothing major."

Marco drops him without fanfare. Sabo's rear hits the deck, and the boy emits a pitiful squawk the same time Ace splutters.

" _'Wee bit o' mischief'?!"_ the freckled teen parrots indignantly, glaring at the blond who only now has the decency to look apologetic as Ace stalks over. "You call getting us chased off the freakin' island by a whole legion of Marines a ' _wee bit o' mischief'_?! I ought'a clock you just for _sayin'_ that! In fact –!"

"No, Ace, wait notinfrontofthecaptain _haveMERCY –!"_

Edward is _this_ close to losing it again. He thinks better of it, though, because he's a pirate captain dammit, and bites it back as much as he can as Ace lunges at his younger brother, inducing a tussle not unlike that of lion cubs, minus the claws. Edward swears one of the brats goes in for a bite though. Probably Sabo.

None pay the scrap too much attention save for Luffy who silently eggs them on, Edward himself with fondness (ah, to be young again, full of energy with no stop button to speak of) and a few commanders. Vista and Jiru wince in unison when Ace gets a rather brutal pinch in.

Marco whirls on Thatch instead, eyes ablaze with something Haruta's since dubbed the 'Big Brother Outrage'. It has a nice ring to it, and is certainly accurate. _"What?!"_ Marco cries, glaring daggers at the chef who wisely takes a few steps back. " _Are you kidding me, yoi?!"_

Sweat pools along Thatch's brow, lips taut in a smile that's hardly genuine in anything but fear, as if Marco is only seconds away from tearing Thatch to pieces with his talons. "Ah, yeah, well...that's really the abridged version of it," he says, and _flinches_ when Marco's eye starts to twitch in that way of his, implying a certain chef's impending doom. " _But,_ and that's a very big but –"

"Not funny."

"Wasn't going for that, _but,_ that's not the full story! There's – there's much more to it than that, I promise!"

Marco arches a skeptical brow, arms folded. "Really?"

"Yes, yes really!" Thatch looks over his shoulder at the boys, desperate. "Right, Sabo?"

The boy in question pauses mid-yell at something Ace said, the pair still grappling with each other on the deck like feral kittens despite their audience. Sabo looks up, hair and clothes rumpled, top hat safely perched atop Luffy's head (the boy now donning all three hats at once, and it's wretchedly adorable) and blinks. "Who with the what now?" he says.

Edward snorts. How eloquent.

Thatch barely stops himself from rolling his eyes and instead gestures Marco, irate and impatient, and Edward, content to watch the show. "Mind sharing what happened with the rest of the class, kiddo?" he pleads. "Preferably with enough context that I might not go to sleep in the forever box via angry bird over here? Ace, get off your brother so he can save me."

Ace looks at Thatch, wholly unimpressed, but he does let Sabo's shirt go with a final shove. Sabo levels his sibling with a glare once he sits up, straightens his clothes and stands, swiping his hat off Luffy's head with an affectionate hair ruffle and shuffling closer to the Captain's chair. Edward waits, an expectant brow raised.

"It was all me, Captain," Sabo declares, a smile on his face that's only half apologetic. Edward can tell; he's seen it plenty, but not yet on the face of this once skittish foal of a boy until now. "I left the boat without permission last night and got into a fight with a Navy officer. It was my fault we got chased off."

Hands plastered by his sides, Sabo then bows at the waist. He's still smiling. "I apologize, to the commanders and to you, for disobeying direct orders. It wasn't my intention for things to get so out of hand, but it still happened. Sorry about that."

Edward Newgate stares at Sabo. He's careful to keep his expression blank, but his eyes are a storm of raging emotions that the old man simply cannot control; surprise, overwhelming pride, worry and...damn him to hell, _love._

And no wonder. Here Sabo is, bowing before him as he's done so many times before, something that has never failed to wrench cruelly at the heartstrings...but he's _smiling_ , genuine and not at all afraid. If anything, he's the picture of any trouble-making teen caught by his parent in the act of a ludicrous blunder and deciding to own up rather than dig himself a deeper hole.

He knows he shouldn't be – the lad is being _scolded_ for seas sake – but he's _proud_. Proud and so damn happy that he can't wipe the grin off his face no matter how hard he tries, no matter the withering look Marco levels him with at the sight of it. The old man only shrugs, a helpless 'what can you do?' sort that they both know well. Marco stares at him a moment longer before rolling his eyes, as if asking the heavens themselves to give him strength.

He's not fooling anyone.

Still, there's yet more to this story than the boy is letting on. "And what exactly were your intentions for causing such a ruckus, my boy?" Edward probes.

Sabo lifts his head, and now his grin is an entirely cheeky thing that takes _years_ off his scarred face. "I'd rather tell you in private if that's all the same to you, Captain," he says, pressing a finger to his lips.

It takes Edward a minute.

Oh.

 _Oh._

 _Don't tell me...he's already...?_

His thoughts are cast to the winds when Haruta, ever the destroyer of moods and moments, hops over to the young trio, grinning madly in that way of his that spells irreparable _destruction._ "Ohh, what's so _private,_ Sabo?" he croons. The majority of those on the deck turn to the Twelfth Commander, curiosity piqued (save for Rakuyo, Izo and Jozu, all of who try and fail to hide splitting grins. They know something.)

Sabo, however, looks lost. "...huh? What're you –?" Haruta, looking deep into his eyes, waggles his brows. Sabo freezes. "Wait, wait _no, Haruta –!_ "

Too late. Haruta draws a deep breath and _projects_ when he announces to all within earshot –

"Aren't you gonna tell him all about your _girlfriend?"_

Silence sweeps the deck.

All heads slowly turn to Sabo, helpless and red in the face at Edward's feet. "...n-no, it's...it's not," the boy stammers, sweating profusely, "it's not like that...!"

Edward blinks once, twice. That's...not what he'd expected. At all.

Ace and Thatch, however, suddenly bear the _widest,_ cruelest grins Edward has ever seen, both turning to Sabo like prowling predators having spotted an easy meal. "Oh _yeah,"_ Ace drawls. Sabo whirls and pins him with a seething glare that could kill a lesser man. Ace hardly bats an eye and moves until he's close enough to drape an arm around Sabo's shoulders, squeezing in a manner that might be painful, as far away from brotherly love as one can get. "Why don't you tell Whitebeard all about your new sweetheart, Bo?"

"Yeah, lil' Sabo," Thatch slides onto the blond's other side, effectively trapping him. "I'm sure Pops and the _entire crew_ would just _love_ to hear all about what you and Koala got up to today...and _last night!"_

 _That,_ it seems, is what breaks the looming silence, and the crew. As one, the _Moby_ _Dick_ _**explodes**_ _._

It rattles Edward's eardrums, to say the least, at the sheer power held within the voices his sons and daughters in their shrieking laughter, their booming ' _ooooh's'_ and the few screams of _'atta boy, kiddo!'s' –_ enough to shake the very heavens, Edward is sure. Enough to scare the piss out of poor Stefan, who jumps a mile and scampers below decks to safety with Kotatsu.

Not one of the commanders bear a straight face, either – Vista, Curiel, Atmos, Namur and Fossa are cackling like villains with Haruta, (the little bastard is eating this up, basking in this supposed achievement of embarrassing a teenager – he'll chat with him about that later) Kingdew, Jiru, Blamenco and Blenheim are grinning like mad men, loudly hounding for 'details'. Izo is crying with laughter against Jozu, pounding his fist against the man's chest. The large man in question fails to muffle his own chortles behind a mighty fist, shoulders shaking. Marco, to Edward's surprise, has to fight the grin splitting his face in half, pink tinting his cheeks in mortification as he mutters something about being underage under his breath.

(Well, that's never stopped most pirates Sabo's age, or most teenagers in general.)

Thatch and Ace continue to hold the poor blond hostage, squishing cheery red cheeks and goading for the aforementioned 'details', all of which Sabo denies with what vehemence he can muster through squished lips. Ace's little hiss – "Payback's a bitch, ain't it little brother?" – is barely heard over the cacophony of literally everything and everyone else. Luffy is laughing himself silly, literally rolling on the deck, eyes streaming with mirthful tears.

Edward watches the chaos unfold. All this for the supposed love life of a teenage boy? Lord have mercy on them should any unfortunate soul find out that _this_ is all it takes to reduce one of the strongest crews in the New World to squalling, gossip-hungry gulls.

Alas, entertaining as this is, best he rescues poor Sabo before his head explodes with all the blood rushing to it like an active volcano.

So the old Captain stands from his chair (ignoring the bones creaking in protest), reaches over and plucks Sabo from between Thatch and Ace by the back of his coat like a cub, lifting him into the air. The boy flails with a cry, startled witless until he's seated on Edward's left shoulder – the right is reserved for First Mates only (and no, he will never let Marco forget this as long as he lives).

With the lad settled and out of reach, Edward turns back to the hopeless mess of his crew. "Everyone!" he booms. Quiet falls a little slower than he'd like, but god is it a blessing when it does. "I shall further discuss this...new development –" snickers float, quickly silenced at his sharp look "– with Sabo in private. I highly suggest you lot get a hold of yourselves in the meantime."

And then it's Edward's turn to grin, wide and unrepentantly wolfish in nature. "Or would you rather I let slip stories of _your_ late night 'excursions' with the young ones? If I recall correctly, I know a few that are quite... _riveting._ "

Another silence, this one mortified. A pin drops, and the sound echoes across the ship. Ace and Luffy look very green in the face, eyes bugged wide in mounting terror.

It's Haruta who breaks it, raising a shaky hand. "...um...no. That's...that's not necessary, Pops. We're – we're all good," he stammers, swallowing thickly. Fourteen other heads rapidly shake their heads as one, sweat dripping down each gangrenous face.

Edward nods once. "I didn't think so. Carry on then, you fools. Back to work. Ace and Luffy, if you'd be so kind as to help putting away the goods you brought back. Marco, have whoever's on lookout to keep watch for Teach; I'm sure he'll be about any time now."

The brothers and the First Mate nod and promptly scurry away with the rest of the crew to get as far away from Edward as possible. The veteran pirate chuckles one last time in tandem with Sabo's undisguised snickers as he turns and walks away, making for his cabin.

' _Kids these days,'_ he muses inwardly with no shortage of exasperation and amusement. _'They can dish it out like there's no tomorrow, but they can't take it.'_

Oh well, he supposes it can't be helped. After all, what's the point of being a father if you can't terrorize your children a little?

They make it to his quarters without interruption. Edward shuts the door behind him, lets Sabo slide off his shoulder and onto the massive expanse of the bed. He bounces a few times, giggling a little as he settles down on the downy blankets. Edward's heart flips. His chances of surviving the next few weeks with these boys grow slimmer and slimmer by the day.

"You certainly don't seem quite so apologetic now, do you Sabo?" he inquires. "Perhaps I should've left you at the mercy of the crew."

Sabo freezes, whirls on him, eyes wide. "I'm begging you, _no,"_ he whimpers.

Edward chortles, shaking his head and taking a seat by the headboard next to Sabo. "Fine, fine. I'll give your quarter, my boy, just for now." The boy nods with a huff (like Edward's supposed to believe he's irritated) and scoots closer until he's all but leaning against Edward's leg. Fighting a truly stupid smile, Edward folds his hands atop his lap and leans forward. He can't deny he's not at all eager to hear the rest of the story, see what's given Sabo the new, wonderful _spark_ glittering in mismatched eyes that wasn't there when he'd left this very room three days ago.

And it's not often he's not the one enthralling an eager ear with stories. It's a welcome change of pace.

"So," Edward says, "what exactly have you been up to?"

Grinning from ear to ear, joy lighting up his whole frame like a wonderful sunrise, Sabo shuffles closer. "Whitebeard," he says, "I think I've found my calling."

And so the tale begins. And damn, Sabo can spin one like the best of them, giving Edward a run for his money.

They sit together in the cosy confines of Whitebeard's cabin for half an hour, soft shadows cast by the lantern light at Edward's desk. Sabo unveils the events of the last two days with passion and youthful gaiety unmatched. By the end of it, Edward can only throw back his head and laugh, pride swelling within him like nothing he's felt since the day Marco first called him 'Dad'.

(Edward has never raised a child from birth. But of all the stories he's heard of children taking their first steps, saying their first words – all the 'firsts' that ignite that powerful surge of love and pride in the hearts of all parents...looking down at this fifteen-year-old boy smiling up at him with contentment, true _peace_ and _purpose_ driving him forward, is the closest thing he'll ever get to that feeling.

It's truly, utterly breathtaking.)

Eyes stinging, Edward reaches out and rests a mighty hand against Sabo's back. Sabo readily leans into the contact. "That's quite the story, brat," the old captain says. "Not everyone can piss off corrupted Navy soldiers enough in the span of one night to warrant such an outlandish chase. I can't remember the last time _I_ was chased out of town by local law – don't give me that look, it's true. I wasn't _always_ the Strongest Man in the World, nor the biggest."

"I honestly find that incredibly hard to believe," Sabo says – he's yet to stop smiling; surely it'll get stuck that way if he's not careful. Eventually, the smile ebbs into something softer, but not completely barren of that infectious joy, as he leans forward and rests his chin in both hands, elbows perched on his knees. He stares off into nothing – or into the bright, if not dangerous future he's paved for himself, waiting for him to take the next step.

Then Sabo smirks. "Y'know...for the longest time, I wanted to be a pirate," he says softly. Edward tilts his head, listens close. "I thought that was the only way out for me. The only way for me to break free from the life my parents had laid out for me. Those five years...killed that dream. At least for me. But I guess, even in that hell we went through, a new dream was growing somewhere in my heart, waiting for me to pick it up and run with it. Something that would give me the freedom I wanted so badly, but take me down a path I never would've even considered..."

Edward understands. More than anything. He knows this feeling, grew up with it – it never left even when he set sail for the first time, nor after he left his first crew. It wasn't until the day he looked at the young men and women – some mere boys and girls at the time, barely in their teens if at all – that followed him willingly, looked up to him with love and respect that he'd never yet seen, that he knew the path he wanted to take, knew his calling.

To see Sabo, a boy who's struggled and fought for so long if only to survive in a world no child should ever come to know, come to this same conclusion so quickly after years of uncertainty and strife...

Sabo looks up, meets Edward's amber eyes. His gaze is resolute, and brighter than any star in the sky. "Sorry Captain, but I'm afraid I won't be joining your crew either," he says. "I'm gonna be a Revolutionary."

Edward doesn't laugh. How can he, in the face of such a profound declaration? The first constant, the first _certainty_ in this boy's short life, after years of being denied even that? No, he can't laugh, not even in joy, though it surges through him like a fire in his soul. Instead, he scoops the boy up, ignoring his startled squawk, and holds him close to his chest in a warm embrace.

The boy goes ridged with shock, and though Edward can't see his face, he knows the lad enough to know he's blinking rapidly, gob flapping wordlessly, until – "Bugh?"

"No need to apologize, Sabo," Edward says, giving the child a careful squeeze before easing up, meeting Sabo's stunned gaze. "Whether you sail under my flag or not, pirate or Revolutionary, you'll always be welcome aboard this ship. You'll always be one of us no matter where in the world you go, no matter who you follow. And no matter what, I will always be proud of you, my boy."

Sabo's eyes widen impossibly as he stares and stares. Edward's smile doesn't falter, though his eyes sting fiercely.

 _'You don't have to call me father, or captain. You don't have to bear my mark or join my crew. You, and your brothers, will always be family to us all._

 _You will always be my sons.'_

Tears prick Sabo's eyes, chin wobbling as he clenches his jaw. One tear manages to slip down his scarred cheek unbidden, but he's quick to wipe it away, drawing a deep breath that hitches only slightly. He smiles again, eyes shining with delight. "Thanks, Whitebeard," he croaks, and clears his throat roughly. "Good to know I'm not getting booted off the ship just yet for subsequent insubordination."

This time, Edward does laugh, giving Sabo's back a hearty pat that _almost_ sends him tumbling off the bed. "Not quite, you cheeky brat." He pauses, considering. "However, there _is_ still the pressing issue surrounding your earlier disobedience back on the island..."

Sabo stiffens. "Wait, what?"

Edward arches a brow at him. "Don't think I forgot, I'm not that old yet, boy. I'm proud of you, as I've said and will continue to say until I'm on my deathbed, but you _did_ go against direct orders, putting yourself and your team at risk in the process, regardless of your intentions. As such, I'm afraid I'm still going to have to punish you."

As much as it pains him to do so. God knows they've had more than enough punishments in their short lifetime, and something in him compels him to reconsider. Alas, he's a parent and a captain of hundreds. Not even three, incredibly young former slaves can get away with everything, even if said...'background' offers some leeway.

A twitch, barely noticeable, as Sabo straightens, lips taut in a fine line that belies the shiver that runs through him. "That's – that's fair," he says, a fine attempt to banish what Edward is certain is fear. Perhaps the only fear they'll never truly overcome.

 _Oh, Sabo._

Heart clenching, Edward softens his tone some even as he declares – "I'm sorry to say this, but for the next two days, you are confined to your cabin, only to leave for meals, training, and in the company of one commander at all times. In short, you're grounded."

Sabo stares at him. Edward stares back.

Now, one would expect a certain reaction to being grounded, teenagers especially, experience of which Edward has plenty of. Moping, groaning in despair, in some cases even bargaining (Haruta mostly, because he's a mischievous little rat and never gets away with it). For Sabo, Edward half expects silent acknowledgement, solemn acceptance.

But of course, because these kids love to surprise him at every turn – "Oh. Really?" the boy says. "I'm...grounded? That's it?"

Edward blinks at Sabo, baffled. "Is...that not enough?" he dares to ask, because lord above knows it wouldn't be, not _nearly_ enough, back on that wretched hunk of rock that's so far away and yet not far enough.

"Oh, no it's fine. It's just..." Sabo shrugs. And then, to Edward's surprise, the little brat starts to _grin._ "I've never been grounded before. What're you supposed to do when you're grounded? And I can still go around the deck and stuff, just with a commander? That's _way_ more than even my parents would let me do. I couldn't even open a window back there!" He laughs, bouncing a little on the bed. "This is kind of exciting!"

Edward's jaw almost hits the floor. He's forced to urn away, a hand over his mouth to hide his splitting grin.

 _Oh gods. Oh hell._

Only one deprived of true love and happiness of any sort can get excited about being bloody _grounded._ Is it even a punishment in that case? Will he learn his lesson at all? How has Edward's life come to this again?

The old man sighs, but still he smiles as Sabo rambles on and on of his expectations of being grounded. Truly, Edward Newgate has no idea what to do with these boys. These wonderful, strong, incredible boys.

(Dragon had better take care of this one. Or it won't be just Edward he'll have to deal with.)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Two days pass in the blink of an eye, and Sabo's punishment is over – not that you can really call it a 'punishment' if the person in question is still inconceivably happy despite the constrictions.

(Seriously, how on earth is it that these troublesome rascals can make even grounding seem endearing? Marco can't wrap his head around it, around these boys who've single-handedly managed to flip this crew upside down and wrap them around their little fingers in the span of two months. The phoenix man won't be surprised in the slightest if they're running the show and calling the shots before the end of the year, if not before they even shore up at Sabaody.)

No longer shadowed by miffed commanders or spending the day holed up in their cabin reading and writing to his heart's content, Sabo is once more free to roam the ship as he pleases, with or without his brothers.

It's during this time that the Whitebeard's start to take notice. Or rather Marco notices, and has the sort-of pleasure of watching the others piece the puzzle together little by little in the meantime.

He'd felt it the moment Thatch and his crew boarded after the ungodly fiasco that was the shopping trip – the new aura, crisp and clear and bright, flowing off the young blond in soft waves as he hopped onto the deck; an aura he's not felt from any of the trio but Luffy thus far. It was a surprise then, but he'd been far too focused on the fact that his hunch (of course) had been right and they had indeed caused trouble. Marco swears he'll go bald before he's forty.

But with that out of the way, it's not at all difficult to see that Sabo has changed. So much that some grow concerned and come up to the First Mate wondering if this is even the real Sabo and not some replica, the work of some devil fruit or another. Marco aptly calls them imbeciles and sends them on their way.

Still, the days roll by, and Marco watches.

The young blond now walks about the ship and her crew with confidence, a glint in mismatched eyes that wasn't there before. He laughs more freely, takes casual touches and affection without flinching, without apologizing for returning it if he so chooses to, which in itself is growing more and more often. In fact, he hardly apologizes at all, Marco realizes, unless he accidentally bump into you or something, and even then it's only a quick "oops, my bad" or a "sorry 'bout that!" and then he's off on his merry way.

He doesn't bow, not in the way that makes him appear as small as possible to whoever stands above him in physical height or rank. If he bows, its a playfully exaggerated thing with a blinding grin to match, or he'll simply tip his hat and be done with it.

Perhaps most jarringly of all – and concerning, at least for Marco's mental health – is that his mischief levels are through the bloody roof.

When he'd once sighed with a soft smile at the foolhardy antics of his brothers, Sabo now actively joins them. He'll sit cross-legged on a chair or with his feet propped on the table just to piss off Izo and Thatch (good naturedly of course). He'll move trinkets ever so slightly to the left just to watch one's face when their daily rhythm is thrown by the simplest action, and quietly cackle to himself afterwards like the little demon he is.

He still climbs up the rigging, sometimes higher, which Marco has no issue with. The kid seems to love heights, love the feeling of briny winds sweeping through your hair, watching the sun rise and fall from grace at the highest perch on the ship; it's a beautiful thing, and a good substitute if flying isn't an option, at least for Marco.

What Marco _does_ have an issue with is that rather than climb back down again like any sane individual, Sabo will readily give every goddamn person on deck a heart attack by _jumping off_ his perch regardless of the height, free-falling through the air all to land safely on his feet like a cat, leaving the mad, panicked scramble of hardened sailors trying to catch him a vain effort.

They try to stop him once – Marco damn near results to begging – until Thatch, instead of being the sensible authority figure, yells at him to "DO A FLIP!"

Sabo jumps, _and_ does a flip. Watching Atmos toss the chef into the sea _almost_ makes up for it.

The boy is mouthier than any buccaneer now, if not worse. Not at all afraid to cuss someone out or offer a witty quip in lieu of a sensible response; it throws many a sailor off, but most laugh it off with a hearty pat on the back, earning a bright, cheeky grin from the brat. It's a sight that warms Marco's heart, settles the phoenix's rattled nerves some, despite the increase of vulgarity – ironic, considering they're all pirates with hardly any social decorum to speak of.

Then Sabo calls Marco "Mama Bird" one night in the galley during dinner – the First Mate's expression had men and women rolling. Said bird promptly sought Thatch out, because of course he's the first person that comes to mind in terms of culprits behind the boys' behavior, and tossed the poor sod into the sea for the second time in three days.

Despite all the outlandish changes that've already taken the crew by a storm for the nth time in months, there's an air of peace about Sabo. Like he's content with himself, or at least getting there.

Or perhaps, this is the Sabo from _before,_ the one they never had the pleasure of knowing; a boy who knew who he was and was comfortable in his own skin, bright and cheery with a quick mind and sharp humor that lacks any real bite. A boy that Ace and Luffy have deeply missed.

That was proven as such when Sabo had marched into the galley during lunch ranting stormily about something that now slips Marco's mind – someone coughing in his face? Kotatsu getting hair all over the blankets again? Whatever it was, Sabo was having absolutely _none_ of it, gesturing wildly, cussing and being generally _loud..._ when only days ago he'd be anything and everything but.

Ace said not one word, staring at Sabo. Luffy wasn't much different, though his eyes shone with unshed tears. It was only once he'd noted their silence that Sabo even paused for breath, blinked at them – "What? What's wrong?"

Neither had answered. Ace merely leapt from his chair and threw himself at Sabo, locking his arms around the blond's neck in a crushing embrace and sending them both careening to the floor. Luffy, beaming bright and hard, immediately leapt on top of them, winding rubbery arms around the pair and ignoring Sabo's strangled pleas for mercy.

It was then that Marco, and later each of the commanders and Whitebeard himself, understood. These aren't so much changes as they are the remnants of the Sabo that once was merging with the Sabo that _is._ A transformation that's jarring, but a joy and wonder to watch with their own eyes. A blast from the past, for Marco.

They might not have been able to meet that boy from before, but Marco is certain they'll have the wonderful pleasure, the honor, of watching _this_ boy grow into a man. Early grey hairs notwithstanding, Marco can hardly wait.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Two days later, the boys are finally treated to their first bout of Paradise weather.

The air is charged when they step out onto the deck that morning, gustier than usual, the waves slightly bigger, rocking the ship a little harder. The skies are clear for now, but the look-outs are hyper-vigilant in the crows nest, eagle eyes scouring for even a hint of grey amid the blue.

Just as the navigators promised. There's a storm brewing, and it's coming soon.

Finally, some excitement.

Sabo, however, takes one look at the bustling crew, the waves rocking the ship, and blinks. "I think I'm gonna avoid climbing the rigging today," he says. Ace almost snorts but decides against it, though he does roll his eyes. Of all the crazy things he's done in less than a week – fighting Marines, jumping off high perches and sassing pirate commanders under a literal _Emperor –_ challenging a storm, evidently, is a bit out there for him.

(Then again, the last time they'd challenged a storm had been near enough six years ago, the three of them squashed together in a rickety tree house that barely held up against the raging winds; the resulting damage had them trotting off to the Grey Terminal to look for parts...leading them straight into Bluejam's hands, and later, Sabo's father.

Things went straigh to hell not long after.)

Ace shakes the thought off like the burden it is and tries instead for a wry grin. "Gonna chicken out on your first Grand Line trial, Bo?" he teases. Sabo, of course, takes that bait and scowls. Luffy, with Sabo's arms draped around his shoulders, snickers cheekily at the exchange only to smile with all the innocence the little brat can muster when the blond levels him with a withering look. Ace freely grins and shakes his head at the juvenile raspberry blowing that ensues.

Well, if a storm's coming, better to face it with full stomachs; he says as much to his brothers. Said brothers, even _Luffy,_ don't look as convinced, but settle for a long look that Ace firmly decides to ignore, and they head down to the galley for breakfast.

Clouds are looming overhead by the end of lunch, dark and ominous than Ace has ever seen even back on Dawn at its worst. For all his excitement of the fact prior, the sight beheld to them once they reach the top deck is...admittedly unsettling.

The winds have picked up drastically since, strong and harsh where it was once calm and cool, howling like a banshee. The crew springs into action; barrels and crates are hauled below decks or tied down tight, the rigging secured, men and women sprinting across the ship to prepare for the worst – storms in Paradise cannot be avoided, so Ace has been told, only endured while you fight the tides and tempestuous winds and pray for the best.

The Whitebeard's don't panic; they're veteran pirates (most of them anyway, hell if Ace knows the age range among them, nor does he attempt to learn the fact), hardened and wise from their years at sea, a well oiled machine amid organized chaos. Ace watches them go, and tries his best to ignore the distant rumble of thunder, deep and loud like god's own footsteps looming ever closer.

He'd been excited before, at the prospect of facing the might of a true storm. Looking at what they're about to face, what's already here before it's truly begun...he might be having second thoughts. But only a little, for his brothers' sake if nothing else.

That hesitation flies out the window the moment Marco spots them from the other side of the ship, promptly walking over. Ace groans inwardly. He knows that look in the older man's eyes, has seen it time and time again in the two months they've been aboard, and quite frankly, he's getting rather tired of it.

Were it a few weeks earlier, the boys would be promptly herded back to their room to safety, and they would comply without outward complaint. This time, when Marco approaches to do just that –

"Hey, boys –"

"Hell no," Ace declares. Marco does a double-take, sleepy eyes unusually wide with surprise as he stares at Ace like he's grown a second head. "We're not going below deck this time, storm or no storm. We wanna _help,_ dammit!"

(It's been great, training and mostly doing as they please in their free time along the occasional chores, and causing general mischief wherever they go. But that's _all_ they've been doing. Whether due to the pirate's endearing yet irritating hesitance to give them work to do so soon after their five year imprisonment is not clear, but it's high time they pull their weight on this ship proper, more so now that threat is imminent. Show these pirates they've no need to coddle them any longer.

Luffy's journey to become the next King has begun anew. Sabo's relearning how to be himself again, every bit as rebellious as he'd been back then. Ace is...still looking, but they're pushing forward. It might be just a storm, but if they're not given the _chance_ to brave even that...)

" _Mm!"_ Luffy grunts with a firm nod, straw hat falling over his eyes before he pushes the brim back up with a finger. 'We want to help. We're strong now,' he signs, and then flexes his arms with a splitting grin for extra measure; granted, they're still merely rubber noodles, but there's clear definition slowly building. Sabo stands at Ace's right hand, shoulders taut as if rearing for a fight, a grin on his lips that dares one to challenge him; it's tense and a little wobbly, but it's there and genuine.

God, Ace has missed this.

Marco looks five seconds away from laughing or groaning, but stops himself before he can do either _._ Instead he sighs, pinching his brow. "I'm not saying you're not strong enough or that you can't help, yoi," he says, struggling to be heard over the winds and the incessant racket about the ship, "in fact, if you're really up to it, we'd be glad for the extra hands. But like we've said, storms in Paradise are nothing like you've seen in any of the Blues, worse when you get as close to the Red Line as we are. We don't want you getting hurt, or flying away where even _I_ can't catch you."

He gives Luffy a smile and raised brow, amused and scolding. The boy giggles, pulling his hat over his eyes to hide his bashful flush – no one will ever let go of how the idiot nearly flew overboard thanks to a particularly strong gust of wind; he's too light, and had been standing too close to the railing in the first place. It's only thanks to Marco that he'd been saved from a dunk in the rough currents below.

The First Mate plops a hand on the boy's head, patting his hat twice, and turns back to the older pair. "These storms are bad on a _good_ day as it is; half the time they damn near tear the ship up," he says. "You sure you can handle it up here with us, yoi? Really, there's no shame at all if you'd rather –"

"We're sure," Sabo says, one hand atop his hat to keep it from blowing off. He should stash it elsewhere before he actually loses it. "If we can't face one storm, we'll never face any ever again. Think of this as...'work experience', if you will," he adds with a shrug.

Marco looks at him flatly. "...y'know, I kinda miss it when you were the sensible one, yoi," he says.

Sabo laughs, bright and sharp just like always (just like _before_ ) and shrugs again. "I can be sensible still. I can sensible just fine! Doesn't mean I gotta be _all_ the time."

Marco scoffs with a wry smile and playfully tugs the brim of Sabo's hat over his eyes, earning an even brighter grin. "Fine, fine," the man concedes at last. "But the minute it gets too much for you, you go below deck. Understand, yoi?"

"Trust us, Marco," Ace says with a grin, a clear sign as any that nothing Marco says will deter him or any of them. "We can take it."

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

They can _barely_ take it.

The skies turn deathly black in the blink of an eye, the sun and sky vanishing under the blanket of rolling clouds that flash with lightning from within. The wind howls like the screeching chorus of tortured souls, thunder claps ringing like gunshots in their ears; lightning blasts and strikes the roiling sea, rain pouring from the heavens like a great waterfall, flooding the decks in an instant. The waves are high and powerful, slamming into the ship without mercy – and _lifting_ it up, high into the skies before dropping them like a stone.

It's chaos, in every sense of the word.

It's all anyone can do just to stay upright as the ship rocks violently back and forth, clinging tight on whatever surface they can, boots splashing and slide across the deck, ropes flailing and snapping in the wind, panels of Adam's wood tearing off and scattering to the sea.

Amid the confusion, Ace, Sabo and Luffy hold on for dear life.

They'd done well at first, helping to stow the sails, tie down anything that might go flying or cause harm or damage to the ship and its people; it was almost _fun,_ scrambling up and down the masts and rigging, watching Luffy managing to knot his own fingers instead of the ropes. Like the fantasies they'd conjured and indulged in as children.

Of course, the dream is better than the reality. But only sometimes.

All three boys are soaked through, chilled to the bone, hair and clothes flying in the violent winds or plastered to their skin. At Jozu's warning, they've tied themselves to the main mast, a single thick rope around their waists, but even that's doing little good against this monster of a storm. It's loud, cold and wet and dizzying, and Ace almost wishes they'd listened to Marco and went inside. But no, they have to prove themselves, prove they can handle the seas at their very worst – and it's true; this is nothing compared to what they've had to face on dry land, what they've endured...but even Ace has to admit it's truly terrifying to be at the mercy of mother nature rather than of a mortal man.

(Still, he can forgive nature. It's a part of life. To be struck by the hand of another human is _personal,_ a wholly different kind of helplessness that Ace _never_ wants to feel again _._ )

They can do this. Something in Ace's gut tells him, _knows,_ that they're more than halfway through. Light awaits them at the end of this tunnel. All they have to do is endure a little longer. They can do this.

Then Luffy's rope snaps.

"Oh god – _LUFFY!"_

The boy goes flying, screams lost to the winds, rolling and splashing along the deck towards the railing. Several drenched pirates attempt to scramble towards him, catch him and hold him down, but the deck is slick and flooded with rain and seawater, and they're not fast enough, not close enough and Luffy's still going _they're not gonna make it_ –

Sabo doesn't hesitate. Eyes flashing, he tears himself from his anchor with a harsh tug and dives for Luffy, ignoring Ace's frantic call. He snags Luffy's wrist _right_ as he goes over the railing, one hand gripping the wooden barrier hard enough to splinter it. Gritting his teeth, the blond pulls Luffy back over with all his might before he can stretch too far – rubber bodies are the _worst_ at times, something they've all found one way or another – and tucks him to his chest. They crouch low under the rim of the rail, Sabo tucking Luffy's head under his chin, shielding him from the elements as best he can.

Ace lets himself breathe. They're alright.

"Hang on, Lulu!" Sabo shouts over the shrieking wind, grunting as another wave hits the ship head on. "I've got you now, just hang on!" Luffy, with all the faith and love one can muster, looks up at Sabo and beams. Sabo grins right back, pressing their damp foreheads together for the barest of moments, and then both glance back over at Ace, waving them over.

"Hurry your dumbasses over before you're blown away again, dammit!" he hollers, only partly annoyed (Sabo's revived foolhardiness is a blessing and a curse all rolled into one, and Ace can finally sympathize with Marco; his heart can barely take it). Of course, Sabo's grin widens, cheeky and pleased as ever, as he gathers Luffy in his arms – thankfully it's only seawater that weakens devil fruit users into almost complete immobility, but heavy rain, they've discovered, still has some effect – and half-stumbles back to his big brother.

Ace has just enough time to jinx himself – _they're safe they're good we're good the worst is nearly over –_ before Blenheim's voice booms across the ship _–_

" _Brace yourselves! Here comes a big one!"_

Ace doesn't see the wall of water towering high above them all, heading straight for them, doesn't see the dark, hungry abyss waiting to swallow them whole to pull them into the ocean's depths to join the many others who's fates were long sealed. He only _feels_ it when it _slams_ onto the deck, feels the sharp, _painful_ tug and snap of his lifeline, and suddenly he's lost within, breath stolen from his lungs, rolling about aimlessly in the murky darkness.

He's limp as a rag-doll, body bumping into others as he tumbles aimlessly, up is down and down is up, and it's _cold,_ so very very _cold_ and relentless and Ace can't think or _breathe or move he's paralyzed –_

He breaks the surface an eternity later, spluttering and gasping, his right hand having miraculously found Sabo's in the disarray, Luffy clinging to them both, rubbery arms wrapped so tight around their waists that it hurts – and then they're _screaming_ as they're spat out from the waves and thrown _over the railing,_ nothing below them but the black sea. Ace squeezes his eyes shut, holds his brothers close _–_

 _It's over, it's over, we're done, we're dead, we failed I failed I'm sorry Mei –_

" _Oof!"_

An impact that knocks the wind right out of him, but not of the searing ice of the roiling sea below. Instead, there's solid flesh and bone, rippling muscle slick with rain and seawater, and then he's tugged close and tight to someone's chest, all but pinned there, his brothers limp bodies squished with him with hardly room to breathe. Ace's eyes are still closed, fear and confusion all but gluing them shut –

"Hold on, my boys!"

But at Whitebeard's holler, they snap open wide.

Ace looks up. Whitebeard has them, one arm tucking them close to his bare, scarred chest, the folds of his Captain's coat shielding them from the worst of the whipping wind and rain. He's soaked through like the rest of them, but amid the insanity and the fury of the ocean below and the heavens above, he stands tall like a mountain, immovable, unbreakable, an anchor of calm and strength of which all can lean on, look upon and believe in...

...and in the safety of his arms, _comfort._

Ace is still shivering, teeth chattering, wet and miserable in every sense of the word, not to mention in a state of shock from him and his little brothers nearly dying for the umpteenth time in their short lives. He blames all of that for the way he ducks his head and burrows against the man as Luffy and Sabo readily do.

(Nothing at all to do with the way Whitebeard holds them closer without a second thought, or with how _warm_ he is, or how Ace has never felt safer in all his life than he does in this single moment in the unyielding grip of his father's greatest rival. Nope, nothing at all to do with any of that.)

It feels like an eternity, but it can't have been more than a few minutes before things finally start to calm down. Little by little the rains ease up, the winds cease their howling chorus, the waves grant them quarter and stop rocking quite so hard...

And as suddenly as it began, it's all over.

Whitebeard never once lets go of Ace and his brothers.

He doesn't put them down even when the crew starts cheering, relief and exhaustion prominent in the air as they congratulate each other on a job well done, another storm fared. He doesn't put them down, but he does go down to one knee, and looks down at them. He smiles, the lines in his ageing face far more obvious and his amber eyes _tired._ "Are you boys alright?"

Ace blinks, hard. ' _I think we should be asking_ you _that,'_ he almost says, but bites it back at the last second and goes for a shaky nod instead. Luffy and Sabo follow suit. "Y-Yeah," Ace stammers, "we're – we're good."

"Thanks f-for the save, Captain," Sabo says through chattering teeth. Luffy can only offer a thumbs up.

Whitebeard chuckles, a weary thing but still so genuine that it's almost hard to listen to. He'd stood strong through that beast of a storm, caught the three of them mid-air and held them all the while...he'd put up with all that for them, without a second thought, even at the cost of his energy, his health...

Ace wants to be _angry_ at him for that alone. Another part of him wonders why, and yet he _knows_ why because he's...he's starting to _care_ about this old captain...

 _Dammit, Whitebeard._

"I'm glad," the captain replies. He still doesn't put them down – not that Ace is in any rush. He can't feel his legs. "That was a rough one, to put it lightly. But you boys certainly stood your ground, even if it was foolish of you when you could've gone inside. Still, I commend you for your bravery. We'll make sailors of you yet, worthy of sailing these waters and more!" And then he laughs, full of energy and mirth once more, head thrown back and all. It's infectious, because Luffy's laughing right along with him in the next instant while Sabo offers a few weary chuckles, fully limp against Whitebeard's chest. Ace bites his lip against a stupidly pleased grin.

(Since when had he asked, or sought out, Whitebeard's approval for anything?)

Then Whitebeard notices two of them are still shivering, and frowns. "Hmm. Best get you three dried off quickly. Don't want you catching colds now." The boys only nod, not bothering to do much more than that. Ace hasn't felt this exhausted in...well, it's not been _that_ long, really, for all that those years seem so far behind them...

"Hand them over to us, Pops." Ace hears and feels Jozu approach, along with Izo, Rakuyo and...another presence he's not felt before. "We'll take them below decks to dry off. Highly suggest you do the same before Whiskey gets her hands on you."

"Thank you, my sons. You've done incredible work today. I say we all deserve a break, the little ones in particular."

"Not little," Ace manages to grumble, but it's half-hearted at best. Why other arguing with the man who saved your ass?

"Poor dears," and there's Izo, sounding sympathetic yet proud. "Guess you'll want to steer clear of any more storms from here on out, right?"

"You kiddn'? Have you met these brats?" Rakuyo hoots. "They'll be laughin' 'nd hollerin' like there's no tomorrow next time around. These little suckers are drawn to chaos."

Sabo opens his mouth to refute that, then he pauses, considers. He shrugs a shoulder tiredly. "You right, you right," he concedes with a nod. Chuckles abound, Whitebeard included, and it rumbles like thunder in Ace's ears...but it's oddly soothing.

Whitebeard shifts, then, loosening his grip on the weary boys and relinquishing them to the waiting arms of the commanders. Izo takes Luffy and shifts him into a piggyback – Luffy has no qualms wrapping his arms and legs around the taller man like the limpet he is. Jozu has Ace in a bridal carry, and Ace doesn't bother to protest; Jozu is a comfy bastard despite his moniker and devil fruit claiming otherwise. And Rakuyo –

"Here, Commander, I got 'em for ya. Better you get dry and see to you men, I got this one."

Ace blinks. That's not Rakuyo.

He lifts his head and looks over Jozu's bulging arm the same time Luffy does –

"Ah, thanks for that, Teach."

Ace watches as Luffy goes _rigid,_ eyes wide as saucers and filled with _terror,_ as Rakuyo hands Sabo off to a larger man with black, curly hair and a smile full of missing teeth.

* * *

 **...hehehe**

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N~ HELLO! Okay, first of all HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO THIS FIC! It's been exactly a year since I published the first chapter and damn, what a ride this has been! 2019 has been a hell of a year, good and bad, but I've grown and learned so many things in many ways...including how staying up till 1am is detrimental to your health, don't do it XD  
**

 **Anyways, thank you all for sticking with me through this clustercuss of a year, through this clustercuss of a fic! It really means the world to me!**

 **This chapter's word count is about 13,000 so...whoops! It's a bit of filler with a dash here and there of plot, as is the next chapter where we finally (hopefully) reach the groves of Sabaody and the turning point begins 0_0. I did enjoy writing this though I had to go back and cut out whole sections to save for next chapter, which I hope you guys will love!**

 **Special mentions!**

 **Wordlet - I'm so proud of Sabo too! My boy is growing up so fast! I'm glad you like Mei, and don't worry I'm not offended; I get how a lot of people are with OC's in fanfictions (gotta admit though, it's a _little_ mean what people think) but with One Piece with a world so _big,_ it's easier to get away with, better still if they're well written! Thanks for the review, hon!**

 **haso12123 - Me too! As for Thatch... :) Thanks for the review!**

 **SuplmHere - Thank you so much! Really appreciate that!**

 **Kohumi - Gotta love those Whitebeards XD Don't you worry about Teach. For now. :)**

 **CheshirePirates - Thank you SO MUCH XD I highly doubt mine is _that_ great but thank you! I work hard. As for your request...I'm not too sure honestly XD I've had bad experiences with people wanting to do something like this so I'm a little wary. Thanks for asking though, really appreciate it :)**

 **Llama - Thanks for the review! I know, my blond bby has come so far it's insane! Don't you worry, Ace and Luffy will indeed have their time to shine very soon!**

 **rynn - If i'm being honest, I kinda forgot about Teach fr a hot minute XD so much going on that I end up forgetting little details in my own story XD Thanks for the review!**

 **Andy - ANDY'S COMING! *drops to the floor like a toy* God I love reading your reviews! You _really_ don't like Teach, do ya? XD Can't blame ya! So glad you enjoyed yourself, hope your teeth are ok!**

 **whirly - EEE! Someone else who loves Mei! Tysm, and thanks for reading/reviewing!**

 **Jennifer -Can I just say that your review gives me life? XD Don't worry, Teach is a crafty bastard, I'm sure he knows better than to go after the kids, but hey, who knows. Oh wait, _I_ do. hehehehehe. Thank you so much for the review!**

 **YourHomeGirlJen - I will spare your little soul for now, home girl XD Thanks sm for the review! Hope this chapter gives your heart a bit of a break!**

 **Sorry if I couldn't get everyone, but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! Happy Anniversary to this fic and have a Happy New Year to all of you! Let's see what 2020 has in store!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. IF I DID, TEACH WOULD'VE LOST TO ACE!**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 28**

The moment Pops surrenders the boys from his protective grip and Izo shifts Luffy onto his back, arms looping securely under his knees, the Commander is certain the boy is about ready to fall asleep against him. One can hardly blame him, though. Poor thing is limp as a rag-doll, soaked through and chilled to the rubbery bone (or so Izo thinks, _are_ Luffy's bones rubber?), much like the rest of the crew as they reluctantly drag themselves up from the floor or simply succumb to the weariness and lie there, splayed along the floorboards like dying starfish.

All save for Marco, of course, who only has a case of the shivers and general bird-y annoyance as he half-gently kicks those still on the ground until they roll onto their feet, grumbling and complaining all the while. Once that's done, the First Mate in question, aided by his Division and a handful of nurses, patrol the deck to usher those with injuries, minor or otherwise, to the infirmary for a check up.

Izo watches from the corner of his eye, watches his 'eldest' brother fight a sneeze and fold his arms in an effort to hide his shivers, and shakes his head. Looking out for others before himself, as always. Endearing and dumb, and Izo loves him for it. Makes him wonder, though, why on earth the mother hen of the crew (pun very much intended) allowed their newest members to suffer with them through such an outrageous storm, the threat of injury or worse too high to risk. But suffer they did, and damn if Izo's not the slightest bit proud of the little troopers for their efforts, their bravery.

Or perhaps it's just the recklessness taking over; it's contagious on this ship. One might say it runs in the family.

That aside, Izo smiles with what energy he has left in him and cranes his neck to look down at the top of Luffy's head, dripping straw hat hanging securely by the string. "There now, little one," he says softly, smiling wider when Luffy all but nuzzles his face into his shoulder. "Let's get you boys showered off and changed, shall we? Then you'll be free to do as you please, which I dearly hope is 'sleep the day away and not cause any more trouble for poor Izo'."

The boy doesn't laugh, nod or respond in any way, perhaps too worn to do even that, and Izo could coo at the sight of him, at all three of them, as he makes to follow Jozu down below to the boy's cabin, Ace tucked safely against the larger man's chest. Makes him think of tiger cubs after a tussle or an unscheduled bath, think of the first time _these_ cubs had a bath on their first(?) day aboard. Feels so long ago now, and look how far they've come since.

Pops was right. They've been grossly underestimating these kids. These young _men_.

"Here, Commander, I got 'em for ya. Better you get dry and see to your men, I got this one."

Teach's cheery voice lifts Izo from his reverie. He turns his head to watch as Rakuyo hands Sabo over to the larger man with a weary huff of gratitude, ruffling Sabo's disaster of curls with rough affection before hurrying off to tend to his own Division. Teach adjusts Sabo in his arms carefully, his expression giving away his slight awkwardness, what they'd all once had around the boys before they'd found their rhythm. Izo can't help but smirk softly at the sight.

Marshall. D Teach has been around since the crews' early days, around the time Izo had finally pulled the stick from his own rear and joined. He's an odd fellow, (then again so is the rest of the crew, captain included), but a member of the family through and through. His loyalty is unquestionable, to the crew, their father and their ways, always one of the first to lend a helping hand to a struggling brother or sister no matter the squalls. He and Izo aren't particularly close, but they're on more than friendly terms regardless.

He's been off ship more often these last few months, his most recent trip spanning almost a month. Where he goes and what he does is a mystery to all, but nothing for any to pry into. Looking at him now, though, as he handles a sleepy Sabo and turns to Izo, ready for him to lead the way to their room, it's like he never left at all.

Then Luffy lifts his head from Izo's shoulder, and _freezes._

What was once a minor burden of flaccid rubber limbs and a sopping wet body is now rigid as a rod down Izo's back, trembling fingers digging into the drenched fabric of his kimono hard enough to elicit a wince from the Commander. Frowning, he cranes his neck to look at the boy –

He pauses.

Luffy's eyes are wide with horror, jaw clenched shut against what might be a scream as he stares at Sabo...or rather, the man holding Sabo, chatting amiably with Jozu as Teach passes Izo, ignorant of Luffy's gaze, and follows Jozu below deck. Izo remembers himself quickly, following at the rear. Again, he casts a glance over at Luffy.

Wide, baby brown eyes track Teach's turned back like a terrified deer the whole time, shoulders hunched high to his ears, sweat trickling down his brow, and Izo _feels_ his racing heart pounding against his spine, feels the fear rippling off his tiny frame like miasma, powerful and suffocating in the narrow, dimly lit hallway.

It's not a good feeling. It surges something within Izo, the urge to flee or stand and fight an unseen enemy, only that enemy is everywhere and nowhere, leaving Izo confused and frustrated and everything in-between. He wonders, with a slight shiver, if this is how a cornered animal might feel, feeling the eyes f a predator and not knowing where.

If that's what _Luffy's_ feeling right now.

Ace must feel it, too, this sudden surge of fear as it spikes the air. He peeks around Jozu's massive arm to look at Luffy, grey eyes darting between the panic-stricken pre-teen and Sabo, who's slowly but surely dragging himself from his exhausted daze. Izo can't see what Luffy's doing, what the boy's face must look like now, but whatever the older two see is more than enough. Soon, realization dawns in their eyes like the reflection of dancing flames, bright and instant...

Both older teens then slowly shift their gazes to Teach, blissfully ignorant of the entire exchange.

Izo can't fathom what's happening, eyes darting from boy to boy in an effort to ignore the building pressure around him, all emanating from the shivering child on his back. What's gotten into them? Have their nerves yet to settle after the storm? And why Teach? What could they possibly have against him? Far as the crew is concerned, he's done nothing wrong, nothing at all to earn their mistrust, to garner the fear leaking out of Luffy like he's certain he's about to die.

Then Teach is laughing at something Jozu grouses about –

" _Zehahaha!_ Couldn't agree more, Commander!"

And suddenly, as if a switched had been flipped, Luffy's body is _shaking,_ like he's woken from his worst nightmare only to find reality a far crueller thing, heart pounding hard and loud even in Izo's ears, palms drenched with sweat and fingers clenching Izo's robes. His breath hitches like he can't breathe, like he's about to cry or scream but _can't_ and then –

 _zzzZZZ_ _ **APPP!**_

All three pirates shudder, hair standing on end. Izo's knees knock and buckle, making him stagger a little in an effort to keep him from _kneeling_ , breathless and half dazed like he's been slapped in the face.

He knows this feeling, knows what Luffy has just done. It's as unsettling as he remembers it from his early days aboard this ship, around men more powerful than anything he'd ever seen at the time, dripping with this same, incredible aura and _power..._

"Whoa! The hell was that just now?" Teach says, beady eyes darting around him in confusion. In his arms, Sabo's lids flutter rapidly, the boy as stunned as the rest of them.

Jozu blinks away what might be stars and shakes his head. "No clue. Kind of familiar, though," he grunts, readjusting his hold on an equally bewildered Ace. They linger a moment longer, staring into space and waiting for another bout of...whatever the hell that was. But Luffy is limp against Izo again; fear still coils around him like a serpent, fingers still gripping the Commander's shoulders like a vice, breathing rapid and quiet like the beating wings of a robin, but whatever energy – whatever _power_ he'd held has since been spent.

Jozu eventually shrugs, and they carry onward down the hall, nearing the cabin. Izo forces his feet to move, to shake off the lingering wave of nausea – always the result of uncontrolled _Haki –_ and give Luffy's legs a squeeze he hopes is reassuring. Luffy doesn't respond.

"Probably just the draft from above decks," the Third Commander muses aloud, then looks at Teach. "You shut the door before you came down, right?"

"Oop, guess not," Teach says, his smile only partly apologetic. "My bad." Jozu just huffs a chuckle and dismisses it. Izo glances down at Luffy one last time – his head is ducked again, eyes glued shut, face burrowing between Izo's shoulder blades as if to hide from the world and every foul thing in it.

Izo was confused before. Now he's confused, concerned, awed, and his brain is positively reeling with more and more questions, most of which he might not get answers to, which then breeds frustration that he's quick to stomp out before it can fester further.

When it comes to stubbornness, the Sixteenth Commander rivals even Marco and their father. Eventually, he _will_ get to the bottom of this, if he hasn't already made it half way.

Better to separate them from Teach, first, for now. He seems to be the catalyst to all of this.

"Here we are," Jozu huffs at last, nudging the door of the boy's room wit his foot, and the three men enter.

Teach looks around and whistles, impressed. "Woah! I was told you'd done the place up, Izo, but did'ja have to all out like this?" he asks with a grin.

Izo sniffs, playfully affronted. "Of course I did."

All out or no, Izo and his men had done their best to make this once barren room full of bittersweet memories as inviting as possible, meaning cushion-y surfaces and bright colors that sparked the cheer and warmth in one's soul upon entry. It's always been warm in this room, no doubt thanks to Ace's devil fruit acting as a heater, but better still it's _cosy,_ a fact that has Izo preening with pride every time, thank you very much.

Having three teenage boys and a pet adding their own personal touches to it over the last two months certainly helps makes it look all the homier; Kotatsu is lolling about on their bed lazily, perking up at their arrival with a pleased chuff; scribbled papers and piles of books of every genre are spread out across Sabo's desk and the shelves, Ace's hat hangs on the wooden headboard of their bed, Luffy's clothes and spare shoes are strewn about the floor in a burst of chaos that Izo only sighs at...they've made it their little slice of home away from home, wholly theirs and safe.

The room of their old Second Division Commander has certainly been left in the right hands, Izo thinks. _Has_ been thinking more and more often these days.

But he's no time to dwell, not when Teach sets Sabo down on his own two wobbly feet, and Luffy's suddenly scrambling off Izo's back like a frazzled cat spooked by a cucumber, making them both stumble and the Commander in question letting out a rare squawk. "Gracious, Luffy –!" he scolds, but it dies on his lips when Luffy collides into a rubbery embrace with an unsuspecting Sabo. Said blond's startled cry is muffled when they both fall flat onto the bed, where Luffy holds him with all his might, face buried against Sabo's chest. Kotatsu lets out a surprised hiss at the abrupt interruption to his nap, rolling away from the boys and off the bed completely, only to instead shuffle under it.

(Izo decides not to think about what it must look like under there if _that's_ where the blasted cat sleeps.)

"Say, is the kid alright?" Teach asks, turning to look between the two Commanders, rightly puzzled. He misses the way Ace, once he's set down with Jozu's aid, slinks over to the bed to sit beside his younger brothers, leveling the rotund man with a wary glare, putting a hand in Sabo's curls once the blond manages to sit up with Luffy still hanging off him like a leech.

But Izo doesn't miss a thing, and levels a look of his own with the eldest of the trio, raised brow and all; a query and the slightest of warnings. Ace meets his eye, but doesn't back down, not that Izo expects him to.

For now, though, he graces Teach with a smile and a dismissive flap of a hand. "I'm sure they're still rattled from the storm, Teach. They _did_ nearly get blown overboard, mind you," he says. "They'll be fine once they've showered off and had some food shoved down those bottomless pits of theirs." He then promptly ushers him and an equally befuddled Jozu out of the room and into the vacant hallway. "I'll get them sorted, which means you two louts need to leave. Thank you for help, Teach, you go get some rest. Jozu, I highly suggest you hit the showers before you grace the deck with your presence. You reek of sweat and seawater –" he leans in, sniffs, and makes a face, "– and _fish?_ What, did _you_ get tossed overboard too? Gods above, you _reek._ "

Jozu glowers at him. "Gee, thanks," he grunts.

Teach just laughs, patting Jozu's shoulder. "There there, Commander. We still enjoy your company at least."

"Again, _gee, thanks."_

Teach laughs again, offering Izo a wry salute before trotting off. "See you at dinner!" he calls over his shoulder with a wave, which the Commanders return as they watch him go.

Once he turns the corner, disappearing from sight, Jozu turns back to Izo, a silent query in his dark eyes. He arches a brow, inclining the boys still hunkered down on their bed with a jut of his chin.

Izo shakes his head once. 'I've got this' he mouths.

Jozu's smile in reply is small but sharp, and Izo can't deny the rush of pride he feels as he touches Jozu's arm with a hand, belying his earlier tone. His brothers' trust in him will never be taken lightly nor for granted, for all that it isn't a rare thing. It never stops feeling nice, though. Jozu nods once, patting Izo's hand lightly – now _that's_ a rarity – before following Teach down the hall, hopefully heading for the shower.

Izo steps back inside the boy's room, shutting the door and locking it. Finally, they're alone.

A breath to steady himself, then Izo spins on one heel, arms folded into the sleeves of his damp robes, and frowns. The boys, having relaxed considerably with Teach finally gone, take one look at Izo and collectively gulp. They're not afraid, thank heavens, but decidedly wary, as most are when faced with a nettled Izo.

Usually, Izo wouldn't hesitate to snap at the target of his ire, most of the time being one of his idiot siblings or a very, _very_ unlucky Marine – that 'snap' more often than not involves a pistol, two if he's in an especially foul mood. However, these aren't his brothers – not officially, anyhow –nor are they Marines (and thank _god_ for that.) He can't and won't coddle them any longer, no matter what his heart screams at him every time he looks at them, every time he thinks of...well, what he'd had before he'd pledged his life and loyalty to Whitebeard, but he's not about accept their silence nor any dismissive excuses, either.

Not when it concerns a member of their crew, a member of his family. Not when _Conquerors Haki_ is involved.

With that said – "What was that just now?" he asks, doing his best to keep the bite out of his tone. The boys don't rear back any further, but they do duck their heads, not quite unlike scolded puppies. Izo's heart _aches_ at the sight, but he pushes onward. "What's gotten into you three? Do you have a problem with Teach? Because if you do, I'd very much like an explanation as to why that is."

The trio share a look between them. Luffy, calm but still rather shaken, wraps his arms around Sabo's waist, fingers clenching the fabric of his coat. Sabo smooths a hand through the younger's hair, biting his lip; it's been a while since the blond has been this quiet, this hesitant. Ace scoots closer to them both, shoulder pressing against Luffy's where he's squished between the older pair. Not one of them meet Izo's gaze now, not even Ace. Like they're...ashamed?

Izo _melts._

 _Oh lord._

The Commander sighs and moves to sit on the bed with them on Sabo's left. It only occurs to him now that they're all still wet and now so are the bed-sheets, but he lets it go; they can change the sheets later. He angles himself so he's facing all three of them. "I'm not angry with you, if that's what you're worried about. None of us are," he says, and _now_ they look up at him, equal parts surprised and relieved. "I just want to understand what's going on. Has Teach done something to upset you? If he has, I need to know – _we_ need to know, so we can deal with the issue together. So no one gets hurt or upset like that again. Alright?"

Again, the boys look at each other, a silent conversation between them that they alone are privy to; not unlike what Izo has with his own siblings half the time, or at least the ones he's closest to, like Marco or Thatch. It's always fun to see the frustration of outsiders who can't decrypt what's said with glances and touches alone. But now that _he's_ the outsider here, he feels their pain.

It's Ace who turns to Izo first, clearing this throat roughly. "That guy...you said his name was Teach?" he asks. Izo nods. "Well...I dunno if you'd remember this, but...a few weeks back, before Tundra...Luffy saw him on the deck talking and laughing with a bunch of guys. He looked at Luffy and smiled, and Luffy, well..." Ace shrugs. "Luffy freaked out."

Oh. _Now_ Izo remembers.

He wasn't there to see it himself, but he does recall Marco mentioning Teach, that he'd spoken to the man after Luffy had, to be blunt, let out a small but no less powerful burst of _Conqueror's Haki_ across the entire top deck – a _zap,_ if you will. Not enough to render anyone unconscious, but it ruffled a few feathers (pun _absolutely_ intended.)

The very same they'd felt the day Pops had discovered the little ones hiding in his cabin. The very same Izo had felt only moments ago in the hallway, again, in the presence of one Marshall D. Teach.

"Yes, I remember that," Izo says. "But Teach hasn't been around for the last few weeks, and he hasn't spoken to any of you since, has he?" The boys shake their heads. "So what on earth about him scares Luffy so much? Compared to the rest of us he's mostly harmless. I know that's not saying much, but still."

Another traded look. The freckled teen runs a frustrated hand through his wild hair and chews on his bottom lip, fighting to find the right words. Izo doesn't push, waiting patiently.

Then Ace sighs raggedly, looking a touch embarrassed, and it would be endearing if the lines of his frown weren't so severe. Reminds Izo so much of a younger Marco that it's scary. "We're not – we're not crazy, okay?" he says. Silver eyes are as intense as ever, but they beg Izo to believe him. "We're _not_. We aren't making this up."

"Of course, dear." Izo reaches out, over Sabo and Luffy, to lay his hand on Ace's knee. Ace jolts, but only a little, and his hackles lower completely when he meets the Commander's smile. "Believe me, the Grand Line is a crazy place, and I've sailed on it for over a decade. Nothing you say will make me think any less of any of you, or doubt you. You've no reason to lie to me anyway." Then he pauses, considers that, and amends – "Unless it's about sneaking food and sweets from the kitchen at night. You're not very good at it, mind, but I trust that's the one thing you'll ever lie to me about."

That earns him a sweet if not wholly mischievous giggle from Luffy, a bashful smile from Sabo, and a reluctant grin from Ace that's wonderfully boyish. The oppressive atmosphere lightens considerably, and Izo basks in their glow.

 _That's more like it._

Relaxed and worries (somewhat) put to rest, Ace lets out another heavy breath. Izo very carefully doesn't light up when the boy hesitantly lays his hand over the one Izo still has on his knee, giving it the lightest squeeze before quickly dropping it like one would a hot pan, because he's an awkward sod when it comes to affection, but that's alright.

"Okay," he says, rolling his shoulders as if gearing up for a fight. "Okay. See...for a while now, not long after we were...y'know, we started... _feeling_ things, or – or hearing them. I guess you could say we developed a sixth sense, or something."

Izo's heart lurches with excitement. "A sixth sense?" he asks.

Ace nods. "Yeah. Like, say someone was coming down the hall but they're really far away – you can't even actually see them yet. We can _feel_ them coming, feel whatever they might be feeling, no matter where they are or how far, and each person has their own...I dunno –"

"Every presence has their own unique Voice?"

All three heads snap to look at Izo, eyes wide as saucers. Izo almost smiles. No time to be smug, though he does so enjoy being right.

"...y-yeah," Ace stammers. "That's...that's pretty much it."

Izo nods. "I see. And these Voices you hear...you can hear and feel any of them at any given time, including animals on occasion?" He removes his hand from Ace's knee to gesture underneath the bed, where Kotatsu pokes his fuzzy head from as if summoned. The large feline readily jumps back onto the bed to curl around the boys from behind and lay his head on Ace's lap. He purrs low and content when Ace absently scratches his fur. Again, the boys nod, speechless.

Luffy, on the other hand, is grinning now, eyes sparkling with wonder. 'That's how I found Kotatsu' he signs excitedly. 'His voice was calling for help in the forest, though he wasn't actually saying anything, which is weird, but I heard him. He calls Ace warm-human a lot, too,' and then he giggles, delighted.

Izo blinks. That's...that's new. He isn't quite sure what to do with _that_ information, but he files it away for later.

Instead, he scoots close enough that his shoulder is pressed against Sabo's, and the boys lean closer in kind, like the pirate is about to enthrall them with a wonderful tale or the most sacred of secrets. They're not too far off the mark, but it's enough to finally get the cross-dresser to grin; now he knows what Pops must feel like with them on the daily. "Well, I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear you aren't crazy in the slightest," he says. "That Voice you hear, those 'feelings', are all senses we on the Grand Line call _Haki."_

Three sets of eyes blink, hard, jaws falling wide like the gaping maws of whales.

Izo can't help but chuckle. Ah, it's been so long since their last newbie. Never gets old.

" _H-Haki?_ " Sabo stammers, incessantly curious as he's always been. He leans closer, and almost squishes Luffy as a result until the rubber boy decides he's had enough and crawls onto Izo's lap instead. "What's that?"

Easily shifting to accommodate Luffy's added weight and general clinginess, Izo hums thoughtfully. "Well, it's a complicated subject. Really, you're best talking to Marco or Pops about this than me, given their experience," he says, (and sees the exact instant in which Ace determines to do just that), "but to put it simply, _Haki_ is a special sense that every living being in the world possess; humans, animals – I hear even plants have it, too, though god forbid you ever come across one of those. Likely means it's going to eat you."

Luffy taps him twice on the shoulder, and Izo turns to meet the wide baby browns they've all come to adore. 'So it's like a super power?' he asks, striking a typical superman pose and nearly knocking Izo in the face with his fist. His brothers wince at the close call and glare at the pre-teen. Said pre-teen snickers, unrepentant.

Izo merely laughs it off, ruffling Luffy's damp hair. "Not quite, little one. It's hardly a superpower if _everyone_ has it, don't you think?" he asks. Luffy tilts his head, considering, and then shrugs as if to say 'fair enough'. "It's not that different from the typical senses like touch, taste, hearing and so on. However, it is essentially a 'sixth sense', as Ace said, so most people don't know they even have it, or fail to awaken it."

"Awaken it?" Sabo parrots, leaning even closer. Mismatched eyes sparkle like the sun over the sea. "What does that mean? If everyone's born with it, shouldn't it just come as naturally as breathing? How do you awaken it?"

Slightly dazzled – goodness, this boy could very well be the sun incarnate, it's a wonder no one's blind yet – Izo shakes his head, poking Sabo's nose to get him to lean back and actually _blink,_ which he does, rapidly, and fights a sneeze. "It's not quite that simple, dear," he says. "It takes proper training to awaken this sixth sense, like working out a muscle. The longer and harder you train, the easier it gets and the stronger you, or in this case your _Haki,_ becomes. Sometimes it awakens under pressure, like when you get angry enough that you burst out yelling, or –"

"Or when you're scared," Ace mutters.

Izo pauses, blinks, notes the now uncomfortable realization on each young face and immediately wants to kick himself.

For all that he likes to claim otherwise, Izo can be as much as a tactless idiot as the rest of his siblings.

He sighs, reaching out again to lay his hand in Ace's hair, damp and crisp with sea-salt. "Yes. That too," he admits softly, gently stroking the teens' black tresses. For all that the boy seems to find this sort of contact annoying or unwelcome by any but his brothers, he's as docile as the massive feline taking up his lap right now, still and silent under Izo's hand as he frowns. "From what you've said, and what we've seen, it seems your _Haki_ awakened during those years... _back there,_ because of your situation _._ Stress, anxiety, anger, fear...that'll trigger it."

Ace nods, sullen. Whatever glee they'd once had is rapidly dissipating, and Izo's brain scrambles for something in a desperate effort to save it.

"Still," he says at last, "it's impressive that you somehow trained yourselves to the point where you can sense the presence of others, despite everything."

At that, the boys perk up. Ace's lips twitch with the beginnings of a tentative smile that takes _years_ off his face, more endearing than he has any right to be. "Really?" he asks.

Izo nods, stroking Ace's freckled cheek with the back of a finger before withdrawing his hand completely. "Of course. Others in your position would've given up, let despair consume them, not that anyone can blame them. But you three pushed forward, never lost hope, and awakened your _Haki_ all on your own. That alone is an incredible achievement."

At that, Ace remembers himself before his face can break out into a full blown grin, and he blushes a fierce shade of puce, whipping his head away from Izo and muttering under his breath. Sabo bites his lip again, this time against a bashful smile. Luffy, of course, giggles and leaps for Izo, wrapping rubbery arms around his waist and squeezing tight. Izo chokes a bit and then laughs, surprised, but envelops the little boy in a warm embrace all the same. Luffy's affection, though spontaneous and sometimes jarring, is always welcome and fills the Commander with an old kind of joy he's not felt in quite a while.

(Gods above, he loves these boys. If it wasn't already apparent how wrapped he is around their little fingers, this certainly proves it.)

"So," Sabo says eventually once their adorable blushes have subsided – seriously, Izo _must_ invest in a camera – "is _Haki_ just that, then? Feeling presences and hearing silent 'Voices'?"

Stroking Luffy's hair where the boy has his head tucked beneath his chin, Izo again shakes his head. "Actually, no. There are three types of _Haki,_ two of which are granted to everyone. Pops or Marco can better explain them, but what you boys have is what we call _Observation_ _Haki._ It gives you a greater sense of the world around you and precognitive abilities, to an extent. And apparently, it spikes considerably whenever you're around Teach, Luffy. Which brings me back to my earlier concern..."

Izo leans back just enough to look down at the boy in question, still on his lap, arms around the man's waist. Luffy blinks up at him owlishly. "Can you explain to me what you felt on the deck when you saw Teach for the first time, Luffy?" Izo asks. "Just to help me understand."

Luffy hesitates, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Eventually, he lets Izo go and raises his hands. 'When he was talking, I felt something really...dark,' he signs, lips twisting into something dangerously close to a sneer. 'I think they were talking about a fight, and when he was grinning it was nasty. I felt that, and...it was scary. Too much, so I ran away.' The little one shivers, shrugging his shoulders roughly as if shrugging off a heavy, physical burden.

Izo hums, nodding absently. Well, one thing is certain, Luffy definitely felt _something_ from Teach that does indeed justify his wariness. Blood-lust and hatred are powerful things, loathsome emotions that only those who've seen every inch of this wicked world can feel. The true test of one's character, one's heart, is whether they allow those demons to fester and take control or fight them with everything they have, like many of Izo's siblings have. It's a hard battle, not so easily won, but they've managed.

Izo, admittedly, doesn't know _that_ much of Teach's past, only that he's an orphan just like most of the crew. Another lost soul that Edward Newgate took in from the kindness of his heart. He's hardly someone one could call 'hateful', but he's been around. He's seen _plenty_ of this world, has lost plenty of siblings and mourned them. Whatever he'd been talking about must've stirred up those demons, bad enough for Luffy to catch wind of them and think the worst. It's possible that Luffy believed it to be directed at him and his brothers, who just happened to be there at that time and place?

(It is odd, though, that Luffy felt Teach's emotions so acutely that he had to distance himself, that he can describe it all so accurately. And what Marco had mentioned once, back when Rakuyo took off their sea-stone cuffs...the way Luffy had just _looked_ at them, as though he were peering into their very _souls_...

Could it be, as well as having awakened _Observation_ and even the barest hints of _Conqueror's Haki,_ that Luffy is also an empath? It's rare but not unheard of – one of Thatch's younger siblings back home is one, he believes. But for Luffy to have all of that baggage in such a little body, all of that yet untapped _power_...)

Izo shakes his head. Whatever the case – because of course it has to be this complicated, of _course_ three little boys they just happened to pick up on their way to the New World _have_ to be as weird and complicated as they come – Izo has to clear up any and all misunderstandings before it gets any further out of hand. The last thing anyone wants is another rift between the boys and the crew.

"Alright," he says at last. "Okay. I'll talk to Marco and we'll bring it up with Teach in private later. And while I understand that you might be nervous, Teach truly isn't a bad man at all. I've known him for decades, and while he's every inch a pirate and a warrior, compared to the rest of us, he's truly a softy at heart. If he truly held any foul intentions towards you three, we'd definitely know about it, and we'd deal with it promptly. And harshly, I might add."

At that, the boys blink, stunned.

"But, isn't he your ship brother or whatever?" Ace asks, stumbling awkwardly around the word 'brother'. "Your...your bond..."

"Yes, Teach is one of us, but you're also our guests, our friends...just as much one of us as he is." Izo lets his expression harden, eyes narrow and earnest. "We don't take threats against our own lightly, especially not within the crew itself. From now on, if you have a problem with anyone aboard this ship, even if it's a minor thing, do _not_ hesitate to bring it up with the Commanders or Whitebeard himself. We'll take care of it. So long as you sail with us, we'd never let _anything_ happen to you. Do you understand?"

It's rather painful, Izo admits, to watch such young ones look so genuinely dumbfounded that someone cares about them, about their well-being. It aches, bright and fierce, knowing they've suffered so much that even affection, in its simplest, purest form, is a foreign thing to them outside of the protective bubble they've created for themselves. They're getting better, steadily and surely with every passing day – Thatch _still_ tears up when Luffy comes to hug him, nearly _bawled_ when Sabo did for the first time just the other day – but the hesitance, the lingering doubt, is still there.

(Lord knows Izo's not the only one who can't wait to see those particular demons banished for good.)

So he presses a kiss against Luffy's forehead – his surprised squeak could kill a man for sure – and shifts him back onto the bed, pushing him deliberately into Sabo so both boys teeter sideways against Ace in a mess of giggles. "Right then," he says as he stands, hands on his hips. "With that out of the way for now, let's get you little hooligans washed and changed; I'd say simply drying off would be fine, but you'll smell of sea-salt all day and your hair will be a disaster to deal with, and I for one will _not_ stand for it. We'll have to change the bed-sheets too, now that they're as damp as we are." He claps his hands. "Come now, shower then dress! Up up up!"

The boys scramble off the bed, Kotatsu yowling testily at having to move _again_ as his humans grab their towels, Izo rifling through their drawers to pick out appropriate clothes – no, he will _not_ settle for the first things he pulls out, color coordination is a _must,_ fight him – and he shoves them into the boys arms, unlocks the door, ushers them out of the room and points them to the showers.

"I'm off to shower, too. If you or anyone needs me, I'll be in my room," he calls after their retreating backs. He gets a wave from Ace, a cheery "Sure thing!" from Sabo, and a grin from Luffy so blinding that Izo has to blink stars from his eyes.

He turns on his heel with a swish of damp robes and finally lets himself beam for all he's worth as he he makes his way to his cabin, personal shower awaiting him. Gods above and below, he's fallen _hard_ for these boys, complicated and wonderful as they are. If Ace decides to bring their newest discovery up with Marco – Izo doesn't doubt it – perhaps the Commanders can discuss adding _Haki_ training into their daily routine. It'll be as rough as their regular training, perhaps with more bruises at the end of the day with _Armament_ training. Izo winces at the memories of his own training, parts of his body still aching to this day.

But if the last two months have shown the Whitebeard's anything, this trouble-making trio they've welcomed aboard aren't ones to shy away from any challenge. To them, _Haki_ might be just another stepping stone on their never-ending journey to rise to the top. And here Izo is, watching them grow and spread their wings with his own two eyes.

Oh, what a wonderful time to be alive.

(And what a wonderful time to give Marco plenty more work to do!)

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

As the sun begins its fall from grace in the now cloudless skies, giving way to the soft colors of twilight, the Whitebeard's, having fully recovered from the chaos prior (though the _Moby_ took on some damage, but nothing that can't be fixed or held off until they reach land) begin to migrate to the galley for dinner. Ace, Sabo and Luffy are quick to follow the crowd, the latter's belly growling loud enough to rival the giant tigers of Goa as he skips happily ahead. Sabo quickens his pace, if only to keep track of their wild little brother on the hunt for free food.

Despite the reputation they've built among the crew of their bottomless stomachs, Ace isn't especially hungry. Rather, he wants answers. _More_ answers.

Izo probably doesn't understand quite what he's done for him, for all of them, in a few short words. He's finally explained what Ace had once deemed inexplicable, what Ace had once feared would be his downward spiral into insanity. In reality, it's anything but. In reality, it's a _strength,_ something only so many people in their lives even know they have, and they've managed to crack it. Or, at least one of them, because apparently there's _three_ kinds of...what was it, _Haki?_ Sounds like a game, but whatever.

Ace wants to know more, _needs_ to know more. If just about everyone in the Grand Line has at least one of those senses or abilities or whatever the hell, then Ace will make sure he masters _two._ He has to, if he wants to get stronger, strong enough that he can protect himself, protect his family. Strong enough that he won't need to be shadowed by Commanders or plucked out of the air by Whitebeard.

Strong enough to surpass Roger.

Izo did say they were better asking Marco or Po – _Whitebeard_ of the matter. So that's what Ace is going to do. He needs more answers, needs to make better sense of this power he never truly knew he had, and he needs to do it _now_. And if not now, then soon, or not at all. He'd much prefer the former.

He finally catches up to Luffy and Sabo once they reach the galley. It's more crowded than usual, everyone either exhausted but still wanting to be social or starving from the exertion of this afternoon. A few heads turn at the trio's entry, and they're treated to a few hearty greetings, some congratulating them for braving the storm, others playfully calling them out on their foolhardiness. Luffy beams at each one of them, because of course he does, Sabo tips his hat and takes the slaps on the back all in stride, and Ace...tries his best.

It's Thatch, bless him, who eventually comes to save them. "Alright alright, that's enough, give the kids some room to breathe will ya?" he calls over the chatter, clamping a firm hand on Ace's shoulder and guiding him through the masses to a long table near the back of the room – where a good handful of the Commanders, Marco included, are already seated. How bloody convenient.

Whitebeard sits at the head of the table, tankard in hand as usual (Ace can _feel_ the nurses giving the old man the stink-eye). Of course, considering his size, his chair is as big as the one on deck, though it doesn't look _quite_ as comfy.

(Not that Ace has been thinking about sitting on Whitebeard's chair at all. Just to see what it feels like. Nope. No way. Not in the slightest.)

The old man looks up and notices them trailing behind the head chef, and his grin shines bright in the dim light of the galley. "Ah! There you are, my boys!" he calls, raising his tankard in greeting. The five Commanders at the table echo their captain. "We were just wondering where you were. I was hoping you'd join us."

Ace manages to muster a smile and a nod in the old man's direction, one arm still in Thatch's hold. He reaches for Luffy's hand to pull him along, then Luffy reaches for Sabo, creating an odd train behind the chef who looks over his shoulder and grins at the sight, light and goofy. They make it across the room without further delay, and Thatch sits them down in the few seats remaining, Luffy between Ace and Sabo, who sits at Whitebeard's right hand. The blond looks up at the veteran pirate captain and salutes. "Captain," he quips with a cheeky wink. "A pleasure as always."

Whitebeard chuckles. "And you as well, Sabo," he says and winks right back.

Ace watches the exchange and squints. That's the second time this week. What the hell are they up to?

"Here we are," Thatch says and steps back once the trio are sorted, hands on his hips. "You kids sit tight while I grab your dinner – hey, where's Izo?" The chef looks around the room, peeking over bobbing heads, no sign of a familiar cross-dresser. "He not come down with you?"

Ace shakes his head. "Nah, he had to shower. When we saw him last he said to on on without him. Said he had an 'emergency' to take care of with his hair. Whatever the hell _that's_ supposed to mean."

There's a collective _"_ _Aaahh,"_ from the Commanders _and_ Whitebeard, all nodding their heads with knowing smiles. Ace blinks, looks at each of them, soundly confused. It's Jiru who appeases him with a flap of his hand. "Nothing to worry about, boyo," he says. "It's just Izo's funny way of saying he needs to wash his hair, do it up and whatnot. He's particular when it comes to grooming."

"How come?" Sabo asks, bracing his elbows on the table because he's a rude little bastard. "I've always wondered why he dresses the way he does but I never thought to ask him. Didn't wanna offend him."

"The only way _you_ can offend Izo, kid," Namur says, pointing at Sabo with a fork, "is if you decide to wear neon colors or mix colors with whites in the wash."

Smirks float across the table. Ace doesn't get it, but he knows a warning when he hears one, and logs it in his noggin for future reference.

Whitebeard chuckles at the exchange, setting down his tankard down on the table; the thing is bloody huge, easily as big as Ace, and it's a wonder how a man as old as he is can drink so much in one sitting and still be sober. "The idiots are right, for the most part," he says, ignoring the few indignant "oi's" he gets from the peanut gallery. "As much as the majority of us might tease him for it, Izo is the best there is at what he does."

" _And what he does best isn't very nice!"_ Thatch and Haruta chime in deep, gravelly voices, and then wheeze at each other. At that, Whitebeard rolls his eyes, but his smile is wholly fond. Ace squints at them, confounded. Was that a reference to something? Whatever it was, it has every head on the table shaking in exasperation.

Even Marco, in a rare bout of immaturity Ace doesn't expect from him, flicks a pea off his fork in Thatch's direction, getting him in the eye. "Enough of that, yoi," he says with a smile that's half fiendish as Thatch squawks. "The kids need their food and your Division needs help. Get back in the kitchen, _honey_."

Thatch's wide eyes and gaping mouth are accompanied by collective " _oooohhh's"_ by every grinning face on the table, save for Whitebeard who throws his head back with a hoot, and those who'd heard the First Mate from across the room. Sabo freaking _whistles,_ grinning like a loon. Ace doesn't bother to muffle his laughter, and neither does Luffy.

Thatch points at Marco with a phony glare even as he backs away into the kitchen. "You're on thin feckin' ice, brother," he warns, watching Marco the whole time until his head disappears around the corner.

Marco's grin is devilish, not that Thatch can see it. "I'm _shaking_ , yoi," he calls back. "Grab me a beer while you're at it, wife!"

Thatch's hand reappears, flips Marco the bird _(ha!)_ and vanishes again. Marco chuckles along with the rest of them and goes back to his dinner. When Jiru raises his fist, Marco bumps it with his own without looking.

Ace can't quite wipe the smile off his face at the exchange. It's been two months, and yet he's still marveled by how incredibly close these pirates are, their dynamic so similar to what he shares with his own little brothers that it almost hurts – all playful jabs, spars and all, all under Whitebeard's warm, watchful gaze. Sure some members are closer knit than others, but that's just how it is with a crew this big. A _family_ this big.

(He wonders...if it'd be possible at all to...someday, maybe...)

"Still surprised, brat?"

Ace very carefully doesn't jump. He looks up at Namur across from him. The Fishman regards him with a toothy grin and huffs a chuckle. "Best get used to it," he says. "A lot of us have known each other since the very beginning, before the crew was even in the hundreds. I myself didn't join till much later, but you find yourself getting sucked right in no matter how long you've been with us."

"He's right," Fossa adds, swallowing a massive hunk of steak that has Luffy's mouth watering, sighing fondly to himself. "Damn, I remember those days. Almost twenty years and it still feels like yesterday." Then he grins, sharp and sudden. "Oh hell, y'know what – back when I joined, Marco over here was just an apprentice, about your age." He chuckles heartily. "A damn troublemaker he was, lemme tell ya! Full of mischief, just like you three!"

Ace's eyes bug out the same time Luffy and Sabo's do, and the brothers whirl on the First Mate in question, who's glaring at Fossa. "For real?" Ace barks through a grin that's slowly growing. _"_ _You?_ I don't buy it."

"Me neither," Sabo smirks, pointing lazily at the Phoenix. "This is the same guy who tells me _not_ to climb or jump off the rigging –"

"Because you'll bloody break your neck if you fall, yoi!"

"See! See, that's what I mean! He says crap like that, and you're telling us _he_ was a troublemaker? I call bull!"

" _It's true~!"_ Thatch sings as he reappears from the kitchen, three plates balanced perfectly on both hands and somehow on his head despite his hair. The chef easily ignores Marco's death glares and hissed threats as he sets the _gorgeous_ smelling plates down before the trio, the youngest literally drooling. The chef looks over at Marco and _beams,_ wide as a Cheshire Cat and just as evil. "He and I joined about the same time, and lemme tell you, we were the _worst_ once we came out of our shells," he declares, then sighs dramatically, all wistful like. "Marco and I, we were Partners in Chaos, the dream team of pranks –"

"Until I decided to become an adult while you never matured past fourteen, yoi," Marco grumbles. Laughter abounds once again, the loudest of course from Whitebeard, who seems more than content to watch his crew have at it. Thatch whirls on Marco, who shrugs. "Hey, don't _dish it out_ if you can't take it, Thatch."

Fossa chokes. Jiru wheezes. Namur slams his face on the table. Thatch gawks, horror in his eyes. "Was – was that a cook pun?" he asks, voice quivering.

"Indeed it was. Don't _bake_ out in a cold sweat over it."

"Oh for _fu –!"_

"What's with all the noise? We makin' fun of Thatch already?"

Ace tenses without really meaning to. Luffy freezes, eyes wide. Sabo chokes on his water.

Swallowing thickly, Ace slowly turns his head, looks over his shoulder. The rotund man from earlier – Teach, his mind oh so helpfully supplies – approaches the table, taking a seat on Ace's right, and Ace can't be any more thankful that Luffy's safely tucked between himself and Sabo.

(Sabo, who lowers his mug and casually tips his hat down over his eyes that grow cold along the edges.)

He, too, is greeted with smiles and cheerful greetings by the Commanders, Thatch setting another plate set down in front of him all while grumbling at how 'everyone's attacking me today, damn'. Luffy doesn't move, doesn't look up from where his eyes are glued to his yet untouched plate of food. Sabo's hand seeks his under the table and gives it a squeeze. Ace's gaze slides over to Teach again. He clenches a fist under the table, letting heat seep into it.

Every voice in his head, his heart and soul, screams at him to let the flames dance, set this man ablaze, grab his brothers and make a run for it. The only thing keeping him in his seat is Whitebeard's presence only three feet away, golden eyes watching him carefully. Ace would be a fool to think he, or Marco for that matter, haven't caught on to whatever aura spills from the young trio – their _Haki,_ Ace realizes now, tinged with fear, intent, and the looming threat of violence against one of their own.

And yet, neither the captain nor the First Mate say anything, pretending to eat their meal and chat among the others like nothing at all is amiss. As if they're certain Ace won't set his fist alight and slam it into Teach's gut, or that Luffy won't bolt, or that Sabo won't try to strangle the pirate at the slightest twitch. As if they trust them enough not to.

(Two months of nothing just might do it, at least for the Whitebeard's. Ace and his brothers have given them no reason to be at all suspicious. But what's two months to five years of fear and death looming over your head like a bomb ready to blow, like a sword ready to swing? A hand rearing to strike?)

It's then that Teach finally looks down and notices them, notices Ace watching him from the corner of his eye. "Oh! Hey there, didn't see you," he says, smiling wide. "You're the new kids, right?"

Luffy, ever so slowly, peeks up at Teach, hands rising to grip the brim of his straw hat; a show of nerves Ace hasn't seen in quite some time. One eye peers from under the goggled brim of Sabo's hat. The ice is barely there, just creeping along the edges, not yet taking over. Ace looks the pirate up and down, a sweep of his other sense – his _Haki –_ telling him they've garnered the attention of at least half the table now. Whitebeard's is by far the heaviest, the most intrigued...

Luffy's 'feelings' of people, what he sees and feels deep in his gut, has yet to steer them wrong. But like Izo said, if this man is truly as bad as Luffy fears he is, the Whitebeard's would never let him near them. They would fight for them, despite their bond (even if the idea that the pirates don't yet think the trio can't fight for themselves might bite at Ace's pride.)

Their past aside, the lingering mistrust aside that leaves Ace's thoughts whirling and screaming and begging for reprieve _just once_ , Ace...doesn't _really_ want to hurt this man when he hasn't _actively_ done anything to hurt them. Better still, the last thing Ace wants is a cautious rift between them and this crew again, not when Luffy's becoming more and more _vocal,_ cheerful and light like he was before the five years of hell. Not when Sabo has _finally_ found _himself_ again, melting the ice to make room for the new burning passion in his heart.

As for Ace...he's grown fond of the Whitebeard's, reluctant though he is to ever admit it. Too fond, too dangerous, too _foolish,_ but the feelings are there and real and damn him to hell he _doesn't_ want it to go away yet.

The best thing they can do is... _try,_ at the very least, to get along with the man. The Whitebeard's have given them little reason to doubt or fear them, why give into those old habits again so soon?

(Two months can't undo the damage five years has done. No amount of time ever will, probably. But these pirates have done so much in that little time, despite how difficult the brothers have made it sometimes. Like it or not, the teens owe them, owe Edward Newgate, the effort on their part to _try_.)

So Ace takes a breath, looks up at Teach, lets the heat in his fist ebb and fizzle out completely, and offers a semblance of a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's us," he says, slinging a comforting arm around Luffy's shoulders. It does wonders, and Luffy seems to relax as he shuffles closer to Ace's side, still watching Teach carefully. On Luffy's other side, Sabo's shoulders loosen, the ice in his stare recedes, and he lifts his head up once more. "I don't think we've officially met. My name's Ace, this is my youngest brother, Luffy." Luffy offers a slight wave, hesitant though it is. Ace is proud. He point his free hand over Luffy's head. "That's Sabo's, my twin. Not by blood, just in age."

Sabo nods at Teach, tipping his hat with a finger. He tries a smile, but it's a tad too sharp. "Pleasure," he says, his tone a tad too low to be casual, but it's a start, Ace thinks. "You're Teach, right?"

"That I am. Marshall D. Teach of the Second Division. Glad to meet you! Put 'er there!" Teach extends a beefy hand to Ace. Luffy barely doesn't flinch. Ace reaches over with his free hand and shakes Teach's firmly. The man grins, all missing teeth and no malice. "Hell of a grip, kid," he says, retracting his hand and leaning back against the bench. "Good to have you with us. Heard you kids had a rough time of it before we picked you up off that island. How're you settlin' in so far?"

Deciding to ignore the coincidence of their shared middle name – anther 'D', how freaking weird - Ace shrugs. "We're doing good, actually. A few bumps along the way, but it's been a trip, to put it mildly. Right, guys?"

He looks down at the pre-teen tucked under his arm. Luffy's since let go of his hat, almost completely relaxed, though his shoulders are still hunched too high and his fingers twiddle on his lap like he's unsure of what to do with them. His baby browns switch between Ace's encouraging smile and Teach's expectant one. Eventually, he lets out a breath that hitches only slightly, and offers a faint but genuine smile, nodding. Watching Luffy carefully and debating with himself a moment longer, Sabo lets out a breath that's half resigned and shrugs a shoulder, lips tilted in a self-assured smirk.

Ace can't help but feel relieved. Or maybe that's just Marco, still watching them, letting out a breath and allowing a smile. Whitebeard nods, and the twinkle in his golden eye looks proud.

(Ace ignores the flush of warmth in his chest at the sight of it. He didn't do this to earn the man's pride. Not at all. He sure as hell doesn't _need_ it, either.)

" _Zehahaha!_ That's good to hear," Teach hoots, and yeah, Ace has to admit his laughter is the slightest bit unnerving. Then again, he _is_ a pirate. Not all of them are as doting and ridiculous as Thatch can be, or as soft as Izo, or as charming as Marco. "I've been sailin' with these crazy bastards goin' along twenty years now. Trust me, ain't nowhere on these waters better or safer than aboard ol Pop's ship."

"Hear hear!" Kingdew bellows from a table over, him and his chums all raising their tankards, starting a chain reaction until every pirate in the galley is whooping and cheering, glasses raised to praise their captain and father. Said captain laughs and lifts his newly refilled tankard in kind. Ace is slightly awed by it all, though he knows at this point he really shouldn't be. Sabo and Luffy certainly aren't, not with the way Luffy laughs or the way Sabo raises his own drink with a conceding nod.

Either way, it's easy now (perhaps _too_ easy) for Ace to put his worries aside for now as he, Sabo and Luffy finally dig into their food. Teach follows suit, and it turns out he's as big an eater as they are, just not quite as messy.

Perhaps Teach is...okay, for the most part. And surely no one who can inspire such cheer across a room full of hardened buccaneers, one who carries the same loyalty for their captain on his shoulders with pride can't be quite that bad, right?

It'll be fine. Marshal D. Teach is nothing to worry about.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Ace takes it back. He takes it all back, every bit of it. Marshal D. Teach is _everything_ to worry about.

At least, when it comes to not choking on his own laughter, or his food.

Teach has indeed been around since the Whitebeard's beginning, though he joined much later than Marco, Thatch and Jozu and a handful of others, barely a teen himself. Regardless, at the prompting of several Commanders (against the vehement refusal of one pissed off bird), the man spins a story of some of their earliest ventures as a crew, including a much younger, much more mischievous little heathen that was the _Moby Dick's_ future First Mate and their future head chef/Fourth Division Commander.

The aforementioned First mate hides his face in the crook of his arm all the while, hiding his reddening face and quite possibly reluctant laughter. Whitebeard's massive hand patting him on the shoulder does nothing whatsoever to console him; if anything it only serves to further irk him, seeing as the old bastard is laughing right along with the rest.

Ace has _no_ qualms showing his mirth, and neither do Luffy or the rest of the crew. Even Sabo, after the first story (in which Bay and Jozu both ended up strung up by their legs from the main mast after a prank gone awry), has loosened up completely and joins in the chorus, more so now as Teach brings this story to a close.

"– and so, the idiot looks down at the body of this _'_ dummy', he looks at me and says 'watch this, Teach!', _stomps_ down on its arm – and the bastard screams ' _FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!'"_

Ace chokes, half wondering why he's trying to eat at all when he's laughing so hard. Thatch is on the ground, pounding his fist on the floorboards, and Namur hangs off Jozu's quaking shoulders like his life depends on it. Luffy's clapping his hands, head thrown back with manic glee, and Sabo hides his howls into his hat, tugging the thing over his face.

Amid it all, Marco shakes his head, cheeks colored pink. "I thought he was a fake, yoi!" he cries, his voice drowned by the cacophony of the entire galley and Whitebeard's hollering that nearly shakes the ship. "We were inside a theater workshop, how was I supposed to that was an extra?!"

"Why would you do that _anyway_?" Ace hoots, wiping at his eyes though there are no tears to speak of – it's a close thing, but not close enough. "W-Who in their right mind just sees a _dummy_ and decides to stomp on the bloody thing?! I mean, I expect that crap from Luffy –" said rubber boy smacks him on the arm, but goes otherwise ignored - "not from a literal Phoenix."

"Keep in mind that I was _fifteen,_ you brat," Marco snaps back, but there's no heat at all in his tone nor his gaze; he's having as much fun reminiscing the past as Ace and his brothers are to listen to it, learning more and more of this crazy crew in minutes than they have in months. "That's no different from Luffy blowing up to roll around the room like a beach ball or Sabo _back-flipping_ off the freakin' rigging, yoi. I've still not forgiven you for that by the way, Thatch."

All Thatch does in response, still on the floor, is wheeze.

Sabo leans back in his chair, hands raised in mock surrender, and chimes, "I regret nothing. You can pry my back-flips from my cold, cold dead hands."

"You kids," Marco massages his temples with feigned weariness. "I swear, my _Haki_ flares whenever you so much as _look_ at the rigging now, yoi. I'll be grey before I'm forty at this rate."

Sabo blinks at him, sitting up. "Wait. You're only in your thirties?"

Marco squawks – _actually squawks –_ "How old do you think I am, brat?!"

Sabo's reply gets lost among the new chorus of laughter, and the sound of Ace slapping a hand over his eyes at his own stupidly short attention span. _Haki._ With Teach's arrival and the wild stories following, he'd let himself get swept up in the madness and forgotten all about it.

Namur was right. It really _is_ too easy to get sucked into this crew and their antics.

He's quick to wave those thoughts off – can't dwell, can't get too attached, can't _let_ himself more than he already has – and turns to Marco, still stewing. "Hey, Marco, I have a question –"

Luffy's sudden spluttering stops him short.

Ace immediately turns the same time Sabo does, both teens looking down to find their baby brother shoving their desert for tonight – a plate of cherry pie – away from him, face twisted in disgust even as he swallows the bite he's already taken. That alone surprises Ace, and he shares an equally flabbergasted look with his twin. Luffy is never one to turn down food, even in the days _before._ He's learned to spare every crumb, no matter how moldy or soggy or cold. However, the last two months have changed that, changed them all in ways Ace never thought possible, which evidently includes saying _no_ to _food. Thatch's_ food to boot.

Good thing the man is still too busy getting his breath back on the floor to notice or get offended.

"What's wrong, Lu?" Sabo asks, rubbing the kid's back. "Something in the pie? You're not full _yet,_ are you?"

Ace snorts, ignoring Sabo's pointed stare. Like _that_ could be possible.

Luffy shakes his head, nose wrinkled. 'That cherry pie was freaking gross,' he signs. Sabo snorts, surprised, and meets Ace's gaze again. Ace shakes his head, shrugging. Nothing he can do about it.

Teach, however, notices the exchange, brow quirking as he leans forward to get a better look at the youngest still making a face. His plate of cherry pie is nearly gone, half a slice held aloft in one beefy hand. "What's up with the kid?" he asks, beady eyes switching from the discarded pie to Luffy. "He allergic or somethin'?"

Ace shakes his head. "Nah, he says he doesn't like it," he says. "Weird though. He'll usually eat just about everything."

That, for whatever reason, seems to rub Teach the wrong way. He blinks once, twice, then he levels Luffy with a look that's hardly impressed. "What? You sayin' you _don't_ like cherry pies?" he probes. He's not angry, not enough to warrant Ace to step between him and his brother (now washing the taste away with juice Haruta helpfully pours into a tankard for him.) More like he's surprised that _anyone_ could dislike such a pie. Ace honestly thinks it's just okay, but Teach seems as passionate about it as Luffy is with meat.

Then again, having said that...this could be a problem.

Sabo seems to think the same. He turns to Teach and raises a hand, placating. "Hey man, it's no big deal," he says, once more resuming his role as the peacekeeper – a role that Ace, surprisingly, has begun to take over in the light of Sabo rediscovering himself. It's tiring, _lord_ is it tiring, but Ace will gladly take it over who Sabo _was_ any day. "We all have different tastes, nothing to get upset about – hm?"

He's interrupted when Luffy, cheeks splattered with remnants of cherry juice, tugs twice on his sleeve and signs something rapidly that Ace can't see from his angle. Sabo looks at Luffy like he's grown an extra head, shaking his own. "Really, Luffy?" he drones, slipping out a cloth from his sleeve to wipe Luffy's cheeks, heedless of the boy's squirming. "I'm not asking Thatch that. That's _way_ too much, even for you. Other people need to eat too, y'know."

"What'd he say?" Teach asks. Ace has half a mind to tell him it's none of his business, but Sabo seems to relent, stuffing the dirty cloth away once Luffy's clean.

"Luffy says he wants me to ask Thatch if he can get fifty more steaks," Sabo says with a tired sigh. Half the table splutters, gawking at the straw hat clad boy in question. Sabo just shrugs. "What can I say? Rubber boy gotta eat, I guess. Not that I'm gonna _let_ him eat fifty freaking steaks." He gives Luffy a pointed look, to which the boy decides to respond to by sticking his tongue out at him. Sabo, being the mature and responsible young man he is, does the same. Ace sighs, wondering when _exactly_ it was that he'd started to really feel like an Older Brother, or better yet, the parent of two dumbass kids.

Teach looks at Sabo, looks at Luffy, looks at the abandoned cherry pie on the table. He shrugs, a bit too casually that Ace instantly gets a bad feeling. "Fine. Then I'll take fifty- _one_ of those delicious cherry pies if that's alright, Thatch," he says. Again, the table splutters. At the head of the table, Whitebeard looks at him, brow cocked curiously. Thatch, laughter abating, lifts his head off the floor and stares at Teach like he's lost his mind.

Luffy, for some ungodly reason, whirls on Teach with a outraged glower, lips twisted into a sour pout. He tugs on Sabo's shirt and signs again, quick and aggressive. The blond, lost and confused as Ace feels, translates. "Uh, Luffy says he wants fifty- _two_ steaks instead, which he's _still_ not getting."

Teach's left eye twitches. "Better make that fifty- _three_ pies, Thatch," he says. Before Thatch can offer a rebuttal – hopefully informing both parties of how _stupid_ this all is – Luffy is signing. Again, Sabo translates.

"U-Uh, Luffy says fifty- _four_ steaks."

"Fifty- _five_ pies!"

"Luffy says – _sixty_ steaks?!"

" _Seventy_ pies!"

" _Eighty?!"_

" _A hundred!"_

The twelve-year-old leaps onto the table, narrowly missing his plate and Sabo's drink, one fist pulled back as if rearing for a punch, the same time Teach rises to his feet to mirror him. He yells the same time Sabo translates the smaller boy's rapid signs – _"_ _I'M GONNA BEAT THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF YOU!"_

" _Do you two have the slightest idea of what you're fighting about?!"_ Thatch screeches in tandem with several others, Ace and Sabo (done with translating and done with everything) included. What even the _hell_ is any of this right now? So they have different tastes, what's there to throw hands over?

(Ace has to be thankful, at the very least, that Luffy has gone from being afraid of Teach to the point of fleeing the vicinity or being rendered frozen where he stands to freely mouthing off to him. Well, _sort_ of mouthing off, but the fear is gone, at the very least. This crew can be scrappy, though, and plenty of brawls and spars are started over the silliest things. Here's hoping that...whatever _this_ is doesn't lead to blows. Luffy's gotten stronger, but Teach is a veteran pirate; he just might be stronger.)

Leaving Sabo to cool Luffy off, Ace rolls his eyes heavenward and turns back to Marco; the man's resignation is clear on his face, worse so when Whitebeard does what he does best and laughs at the whole exchange as though it's one big joke. Marco spares the giant of a man a mere glance and then massages his temples again.

Ace smirks. "Brothers, eh?"

Marco just sighs, long and hard and from the depths of his weary soul. "You're lucky you only have two, yoi," he mutters. He pushes himself up from the bench, patting his captain on the knee once as he passes and circles the table until he reaches the trio. "You said you needed to ask me something? If you're done eating and –" he looks between a stewing Luffy held back by Sabo and a petulant Teach munching away at Luffy's discarded cherry pie, making a point of looking the boy in the eye as he chews "– 'arguing', among yourselves, follow me. We'll go somewhere quiet and where no one can _laugh at you._ "

He glares at Thatch for that, the man himself looking him in the eye on his way back to the kitchen and shrugging. He regrets nothing. Of course he doesn't.

Marco shakes his head again and gestures for Ace to follow him. Ace gets up, offering Whitebeard a nod which the old man returns with that _damn_ smile of his that means a hundred different things at once – Ace doesn't care, he _doesn't care –_ patting Sabo on the shoulder. All too relieved for the excuse to leave, Sabo quickly stands up, arms locked around Luffy's waist as he hauls the brat up from the table. Luffy doesn't fight him at all as he's carried off like a scolded wolf pup, ankles bumping against Sabo's shins as the blond walks. He just folds his arms, pouting sourly like a child half his age at Teach all the while, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

Teach only gives Luffy the barest hint of a stink-eye before going back to his cherry pie.

"What is _with_ you, Lulu?" Sabo grunts. "You're hardly ever this confrontational, especially not over food."

Luffy only huffs in reply. Sabo rolls his eyes skyward.

The four of them reach the top deck without further incident, blessedly clear of lingering crew mates – most of them, if not all of them, are down in the galley for dinner, giving the brothers and the Commander a much needed reprieve. Sabo sets Luffy back down, only for the kid to latch onto his left arm and cling the instant his feet touch the ground. Sabo lets him with a tolerant smile, because he's soft and makes no effort to hide the fact.

Ace picks up the pace so he's side by side with Marco, struggling and failing to match the taller man's longer gait. "So, wher're we going?" he asks. "Back to our cabin?"

"Not this time," the First Mate says. "I was supposed to mention it when you came to sit with us, but things got...a little out of hand, yoi."

"Speaking of which, I hope you know I'll be logging that time you stomped on that poor bastards hand in my book for future reference!" Sabo chimes, his grin screaming everything but innocence for all that he tries otherwise. No one is fooled, least of all Marco, who only _stares_ at Sabo like he's the devil himself (he's not far off, admittedly) until the blond gives in and laughs. Luffy follows suit, but only because Sabo's laughing, regardless of why.

The Phoenix rolls his eyes – Ace is sure they'll be stuck like that at this rate – but the reluctant tilt of his lips is endlessly, hopelessly, fond. " _Anyway,"_ he continues, _"_ I was supposed to let you know that Whiskey wants to see you in the infirmary soon as you finished dinner, Ace." Ace blinks at him, worry immediately churning his gut until the man gives him quarter and pats his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "You're not in trouble nor are you dying, so relax, yoi. She's figured out why you keep passing out at random and wants to prescribe medication."

"...that sounds a hell of a lot like I'm dying."

"You're _not,"_ Marco chuckles, swinging his arm around Ace's shoulders to pull the teen close to his side in a sort of half hug. Ace barely holds back a flinch, forcing himself to relax – it's not that he's never been hugged or even held by any of the Whitebeard's, nor does he hate it when they do, despite his efforts to squirm away when he can. It's just...another change to get used to, is all. And squashing down the guilt he feels when he doesn't reciprocate.

They understand, they say, there's no need for him to do anything he's not comfortable doing, anything he doesn't want to do; they've assured them time and time again, and it gets easier to believe it, easier to... _trust_ them to keep their word.

(But he _does_ want to, Ace realizes. It should scare him, should have him think twice and twice again, should have him pull away and never let them touch him again. But it doesn't. The Whitebeard's don't scare him. The yearning to return their easy affection the way he does without question with Luffy and Sabo, doesn't scare him.

 _Whitebeard_ doesn't scare him.

The idea of _joining,_ becoming a part of this crazy, disaster of a crew – a family – doesn't scare him, at least not as much as it used to.

It doesn't scare him. But it doesn't mean he can act on it. Not yet...)

"In the meantime," Marco says, jarring Ace from his newest crisis, "what did you wanna ask me? Keep in mind though, if it's anything to do with my days post First Mate, I will not hesitate to boot you over the side of the ship like Pops, yoi."

That brings a snicker out of Ace, and he's relaxing under Marco's arm before he fully realizes it. Really, it's all too easy. "No, nothing like that. Think I've heard enough for one day," he says, ducking his head a little when they reach the doorway to head below decks. "I was gonna ask if...if you knew anything about _Haki?"_

Marco blinks, hard. Looks down at Ace, sleepy eyes widening slightly. "Where'd you hear about that?" he asks.

"Izo told us. Well, the basics at least. He said you or Whitebeard would be the best to ask about it. And..." He pauses, rolls the words about in his head for a moment, takes a breath. "...and if it's at all possible for you guys to teach us how to use it. Properly."

For a moment, Marco says nothing. Blue eyes, bright and piercing as ever, regard him up and down in a way he hasn't since their first day aboard. Since Ace, ragged and weary and thin enough that a breeze could knock him over, had dared to challenge an Emperor of the Sea, dared to glare at the Phoenix and want him _dead._ He hadn't backed down then and he doesn't now, minus the bloodlust and distrust. He meets the First Mate's gaze evenly, surely, and hopes.

Eventually – "Heh. Pops was right, yoi," Marco says with a grin that's _proud._ "You kids won't stop until you've reached the top, will you?"

Ace grins back in an effort to hide his relief and brimming excitement. He almost succeeds. "Like I said at the start. I have someone I need to surpass," he says. He can _feel_ Sabo rolling his eyes behind them, hard enough to prompt Luffy to smother a snicker, and elects to ignore them both.

Marco chuckles again, giving Ace a final squeeze before letting go, stuffing both hands in his pockets. "Alright," he says. "I'll talk to Whitebeard and the Commanders about it, but I personally don't see why not. You three have improved in the last few weeks, and while we won't push too hard – lest we do more bad than good, your bodies are still adjusting – I'll see if we can get you started on the basics of _Haki."_

Ace could cheer. Could rip out a page from Luffy's book and punch the sky with glee. He settles instead for a whoop, echoed by Sabo, who _does_ actually punch the sky. Luffy bounces on his toes with a wordless cheer.

This is it. Finally, they're bumping up the levels, reaching the next stage of their journey –

"But _first,"_ Marco's amused voice cuts the celebration short, and the boys turn back to him. He points a finger at Ace. "You, freckles, have a date with the head nurse, yoi. We need to talk about your narcolepsy before we even think about training your _Haki_ any further."

Ace blinks. Sabo frowns. Luffy tilts his head.

"What the hell is narcolepsy?" Ace asks.

* * *

 **Oh, Ace XD**

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: HEY YOOOOO! Sorry for the delay everyone, I've been a little haggard these last few weeks and couldn't find the motivation to write _anything._ That...plus I've recently re-joined the My Hero Acedemia fandom sooooooo maybe look out for a one-shot of that some time in the future? Even though I've never written for MHA _ever?_  
**

 **ANYWAY! This chapter was _freaking hard._ I wanted to get so much crammed in but then deleted parts because then it got too crowded and _I want to get them t Sabaody dammit!_ Sorry, but this is still kinda fillery, BUT, don't worry! Next chapter, we _finally_ land on Sabaody, where shenanigans ensue and we meet a few familiar faces... :)**

 **First things first, a few mentions!**

 **Nido - hello there! Thank you so much, i really appreciate your comment! I'm hardly the best AU out there, trust me, but thank you!**

 **DetectiveBiggs98 - YEAH HE DOES! Also I love Sabo and Koala, the best duo!**

 **Ella - ZOMG! I'm so honored? Thank you!**

 **phoenix - Thank you so much! And funny you should mention Luffy. He and Marco are gonna have a lil 'chat' next chapter :3**

 **Rein - thank you, dear! As for whether Ace will dance again...well, wait and see :)**

 **Andy - *is shaken* I tried to run but you SHOOK ME LIKE A DOLL XD Hopefully this chapter will cool your rage down about Teach XD This is gonna be another fillery one, but there is SOME DEVELOPMENT! FEAR NOT!**

 **Llama - The Luff is growing up big time! Look out for some more growing sooooon! Thanks for the review!**

 **Jennifer - Thank you so much I don't deserve this praiiiisssseeee!**

 **CheshirePirates - I gotta say, writing the Jaya callback was much harder with Luffy being mute, but it was easily the most fun for me to write! Thanks hon!**

 **JustCallMeCookie - Thank you! Updating regularly is a challenge, I'll tell you that, but reading reviews like yours makes it a little bit easier :)**

 **That's all for now, if I missed anyone I'm sorry, but I appreciate every single one of you! Now, on with the chapter!**

 **I OWN NOTHING. WARNING FOR MINOR MANGA SPOILERS FOR WANO ARC.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 29**

Izo flops across his bed in an undignified heap, groaning into his pillow; a rare moment of gracelessness, but today he's allowing himself the luxury. Thatch, leaning against the door-frame, chuckles at the sight. Poor bastard must be exhausted _._ So is Thatch, but alas, he can't properly unwind quite yet unlike the rest of his fellow commanders; lunch is around the corner, and no way in hell the chef is going to pass out here so carelessly unless he wants to wake up with painted nails or something equally as horrifying.

But he does have time before he's needed in the kitchen. And the sight of Izo so thoroughly miserable, face down in his pillow, stirs up old feelings he's not had in a while. Feelings that have been building and building since the trouble trio arrived and nestled themselves neatly into every heart aboard the _Moby._ He smiles, arms crossed against his chest. "You good, Iz?" he asks.

He gets a muffled grunt in reply.

Chuckling again, the chef shuffles into the room proper and shuts the door behind him. The bed dips under his weight as he sits on the edge next to Izo's limp body. Izo doesn't move or bother to so much as lift his head, not even when Thatch takes a lock of his long, _long_ hair and twirls it between his fingers. When Izo still doesn't react, Thatch lifts his other hand to gently card his fingers through the dark tresses nearer his scalp; it'll have to do, since Izo's favorite brush is across the room and Thatch is too comfy to bother fetching it.

It seems to do the trick. Izo slowly relaxes, sighing into his pillow. Fighting a stupid grin – he's just like their resident feline, easily susceptible to pets – Thatch starts to hum softly; a tune they know well, soft and soothing, slow and lulling...

Izo turns his head to glare at Thatch with one amber eye. Thatch stops humming, meets his gaze. Izo arches a neat brow. "Are you actually trying to put me to sleep?" he asks.

Thatch's answering grin is deceptively innocent. "Whatever do you mean?" he chimes, once more stroking Izo's hair despite the glower he gets in response. "Can I not ease the stress of my dearest brother after such a burdensome day? Coddle that whom is never coddled? Sooth that whom is never –"

"You want something," Izo snaps, though the upward tilt of painted lips gives him away, "and I'm telling you right now, all you'll get is the barrel of my gun up your ass."

The brunette cackles, teasing a full grin from Izo at last, however reluctant. "Alright, alright, I'll stop," Thatch says, raising his hands in mock surrender and shuffling backwards just a bit. "I don't want anything, not this time. And I wasn't actually trying to put you to sleep –"

"Good, it nearly worked."

"Oh, really? Sweet, better try that on Luffy next time. But, and please take no offense to this –"

"Already am."

" – you look like you're in desperate need of some shut-eye after all that. Hell, if it weren't nearly lunch I'd follow Sabo's lead and take a nap in the rigging."

"He'd _better_ not be taking a nap in the bloody rigging again," Izo sighs, rolling onto his back and massaging the space between his brows as if warding off a headache. It's mostly for show – the only one who actually gets headaches over the brats and their antics is Marco. "He'll get hurt if he's not careful. It's not been nearly long enough since he was _shot_ and we've already one boy to worry about."

Thatch flaps a careless hand. "Ah, I say let him do it. He's proven he can handle heights, and the kid can back-flip like nobody's business –"

"Jealous much?"

"Hell _yeah_ I am! Besides, if Marco's gonna complain about it then he's a hypocrite. He loves the heights as much as Sabo, considering he _roosts_ in the crows nest every other damn night. Freakin' feathers get _everywhere_ and _I'm_ the one who has to clean it up."

It's Izo's turn to chuckle, and he reluctantly sits up with a groan that's half feigned, shuffling until his feet hit he floor. He presses close to Thatch and lays his head on his shoulder. "God, it's been a morning," he mutters, lips twitching into a tired smile when Thatch throws an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

And yeah, Thatch has to agree. His brain, filled to the brim with a dump of too much information to process in the wee hours of the morning, is ready to implode.

Otherwise occupied with dinner and clean up in the galley after said fiasco – seriously, all that over _cherry pies?_ \- the Fourth Commander was unable to bear witness to Ace's supposed 'death sentence' in the infirmary last night. Granted, it's not every day you get diagnosed with narcolepsy, but it's hardly anything quite that dramatic. Or, so Thatch thought. This morning changed that swiftly.

From what Thatch understands, Ace's condition triggers _sleep._ That explains why the kid keeps passing out, be it at dinner or in the middle of a conversation. It might've been funny. But the meeting this morning, coupled with Whiskey's thunderous expression, quickly proved it to be anything _but._ Narcolepsy can be dangerous, and, now that Thatch thinks about it, _scary._

(Thatch remembers, with a shiver, the last time it happened. Homeward bound after the disaster that was the now infamous Shopping Run. Watching the freckled teen collapse to the deck like a puppet cut loose from its strings, still as death, had been _terrifying.)_

Of all the things Ace could've developed, it _had_ to be this; a disorder that triggers _sleep,_ among other things that could stem from it. Like cataplexy, sleep paralysis, _hallucinations_. And how ironic that one of the leading triggers of this condition is _psychological_ _stress_. Because of _course_ it is.

Finally free from that hell, the chains rusting and crumbling with every passing day as they grow stronger, braver, _better_...and yet those bastards still managed to land one final blow, even from beyond whatever grave they'd dug for that waste of flesh of a King, that Ace will never heal from. As if they've not suffered enough.

Another unfortunate setback is that Ace can't overexert himself lest he trigger an attack, hence the snag the Commander's and their captain have hit with the boys' requests to train their _Haki;_ a notoriously taxing mental, physical and spiritual ordeal. Thatch doesn't regret braving it, of course, but certainly doesn't envy the poor newbies who have no idea what they're in for. Whiskey, the saint, is already on the case whipping up treatments and a schedule that might help, for all that it's put Ace in the foulest of moods since yesterday.

To top it all off – oh lord how _exhausting_ it is to even think about – they're getting closer to Sabaody. Less than a week left until they reach the bubbling verdure of the groves, where they'll drop anchor and tend to the damages left from the storm, let the crew stretch their legs, pay a few faces a visit...

Less than a week until the boys are to make up their minds. If they're to stay with the Whitebeard's, or venture off into the world on their own. For good.

Thatch frowns, sullenly glaring off into nothing, his arm tightening around Izo's shoulders. It's a subject they've discussed time and time again, and it never gets easier.

The boys have been through worse than what anyone deserves. Things members of this crew, his family in every way but blood, had suffered through once upon a time until they found their chance or fought their way out...until someone, a stranger who had made their business his, reached out and plucked them from their hells, made them an offer, and welcomed them home with open arms.

Ace, Sabo and Luffy deserve the world. They deserve a chance to grow, to sail the seas and embark on wonderful adventures. They deserve _true_ freedom. If that means stepping into those same open arms as they all had once upon a time, or leaving the Whitebeard's behind altogether, well...it's their choice. And it's the Whitebeard's job to accept that choice, to wish them every happiness and all the luck in the world.

Doesn't mean it'll hurt any less to watch them go. Let them slip out of sight for the last time and not let themselves worry, force themselves not to scour every grove or forest or village or island just to make sure they're still alive...

A finger, quick as a whip, flicks Thatch right between his eyes.

" _YEOW!"_ Thatch rears back, pressing a hand over the growing red spot on his face and blinking away reflexive tears. He whirls on Izo, glaring. "What –?"

"You were thinking too loud," Izo says, raised brow and lips taut; a very unimpressed look, but hardly anything new. "It's annoying."

"What the hell do you mean I was _thinking_ too loud?!"

Izo folds his arms into his sleeves, the gesture as habitually regal as it is playfully condescending. "You've got that same look on your face as you did when Pops explained to us yet again about the boys' situation," he says. His features soften, then, and he looks down at his lap instead. Indignation fades as Thatch watches him, tilting his head in an effort to catch the other man's eye and failing.

He doesn't miss the flash of pain in them, though, familiar and sharp. An ache only an older brother can feel...

Thatch's heart clenches. _Oh, Izo..._

Whatever look the chef has on his face, Izo notices it from the corner of his eye. He bristles, as he always does, but deflates just as quickly when he remembers where he is, who he's with. One of the few – or perhaps many – who'll _understand._

He draws in a long, long breath that trembles with his frame. "I don't like it either. I _hate_ it, actually," he admits, swallowing hard. His arms are unfolded now, fingers fiddling with one another on his lap like he's not sure what to do with them, to go for his guns or pick at the skin of his knuckles. "I love them, as I'm sure every idiot on this ship does. And I understand what everyone's saying. But I...I don't –" He stops himself.

But Thatch hears it anyway. Hears it in the aching song of his _Haki_ flaring off him in jaunty waves, sees it in the way Izo stares hard at his hands, fingers laced, knuckles white. Sees and feels it in the way Izo's eyes fill up but no tears fall. Like Ace, he won't let them fall.

 _I don't want to lose another one._

Thatch says nothing, for all that he feels he needs to _–_ 'it's different than back then,' 'you'll see them again,' 'it won't be forever,' 'you won't lose them,' 'what happened to her wasn't your fault,' – all useless drivel that'll only ring empty in Izo's ears.

Then again, they've never really needed words.

So Thatch shuffles closer, laying his hand over Izo's pallid knuckles. Izo starts, only slightly, and meets Thatch's eyes. They stare at each other for what feels like a lifetime, together in the silence filled only by the groaning ambience of their floating home, the distant clamor of their family milling about in their daily routines, no doubt disrupted or accommodating to fit the three blooming, untameable youths.

Thatch smiles, patting Izo's hands. Izo smiles back, a wobbly thing, but there and genuine even as a single tear slips down his cheek. He's quick to wipe it away.

"You good?" Thatch asks.

Izo chuckles around a sigh, and it sounds real. "Yeah," he says, sniffling a little, but Thatch believes him. "Yeah, I'm alright. Damn, I _hate_ talking about this. I hate –" he gestures wildly at nothing, "– _this._ How does Marco deal with it all?"

Thatch shrugs as he stands, stretching out the kinks in his back and the tingly numbness in his legs. "No idea," he grunts, letting his arms flop back to his sides. "Pretty sure it's bird seed, though."

Izo _wheezes,_ an undignified sound coming from him, but wholly welcome and delightful in the aftermath of old aches. "Bird seed?" he snickers, hiding a massive grin behind his hand.

Thatch grins back. "'Course! I mean, cats have catnip – gets them high as a kite! So maybe Marco has some bird seeds to mellow him out, bring him _down,_ y'know? And I mean the _good stuff,_ like sunflower seeds but, like, sprinkled with weed or something –"

And then Izo's cackling, head thrown back and all, until he's toppling backwards onto the bed. Thatch joins in, basking in the warm glow of his siblings' unbridled delight.

 _There you are, brother._

Then there's a knock on the door. The laughter stops and the pirates freeze, look at each other, then the door. A hesitant but familiar voice filters through the wood – "Izo? You in here? It's Sabo. Haruta said this was your room but he's kind of a bastard sometimes, so..."

Thatch can't help but snort. Izo shrugs in a 'well he's not wrong' manner, standing up from the bed, dabbing at his face once more to check for tears (of laughter or otherwise) and gliding over to the door. He doesn't have to do it, but he enjoys how his robes twirl about him every step, because he's weird. They all are, to be fair, but still.

Izo opens the door wide, a cheerful greeting promptly swallowed with surprise. He blinks once, twice, looks the smaller blond up and down. Thatch is similarly baffled.

Sabo must've gotten out of the shower recently, patches of his shirt damp around the shoulders, but otherwise he's no different from the norm; dressed in a new dark blue, long-sleeved button-down, baggy blue pants held up by a modest belt, and the new calf-high black boots to replace the old ones he'd gotten bloody after Tundra (they're glad for it, the stains never went away and they were a constant, horrid reminder of their failure as a crew.)

Thatch has no qualms admitting that Sabo looks downright adorable, like a boy trying his hand at dressing like his father for the first time and half succeeding, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, shirt untucked...and a towel draped over his head?

Thatch stares. Izo stares. Sabo shuffles awkwardly.

"...Sabo, dear," Izo asks slowly. "What on earth are you doing?"

Sabo peeks up at them both through the cottony fabric, his grin a bashful thing. "I...I think I kinda sorta need your help," he stammers, gesturing the towel with a flap of his arm. "With my hair. 'S not...cooperating."

It takes everything in Thatch not to crack a grin. Izo doesn't share the sentiment. "So you decided it was a good idea to walk around the ship like a nun cosplayer looking for me?" he probes, leveling Thatch with a _Look,_ meaning he'd not been successful in fighting a chuckle, but can you blame him? The image of Sabo wandering the ship like a lost child on Halloween is the cutest damn thing.

"What exactly is wrong with it?" Izo continues, electing to ignore Thatch. Rude. "Can't get a comb through it? Brittle? Split ends?"

Sabo shrugs helplessly, tugging the towel off his head, and –

Oh. _Oh_. _Oh_ _nooo._

The poor thing's hair has been reduced to an untamed frizz of blond, like an afro without the volume or shape. It's a mess, and Sabo knows it, if the defeated look on his face is anything to go by. "My hair hates me," he drones. "Pretty sure it's sentient and it wants to eat me."

That does it.

Thatch is on his knees, hugging his gut and howling with laughter. "You – you poor bastard!" he wheezes, wiping his eyes and gulping greedy gasps of air in an effort to quell his mirth, but one look at Sabo's face – like he's ready to welcome darkness, his old friend, with open arms – sends the man right back over the edge.

Izo _almost_ laughs, looks like wants to _so badly_ , but thinks better of it. He does smile, though, and shakes his head with a sigh, kicking Thatch in the ribs. "Get up, you idiot," he says. When all Thatch does is sit on his ass and giggle, Izo rolls his eyes and hauls the other man to his feet by the arm, sharp nails easily pinching through the fabric and eliciting a wince from the chef. "I believe your presence is required in the galley. Get going you useless oaf, I'll take care of Sabo."

Knowing a dismissal (and a hidden heartfelt 'thank you') when he hears one, Thatch simmers enough to step out of the room and into the hallway proper, ruffling Sabo's mess of hair as he does so. "Alright, alright. I'll get started on lunch and work out the kinks of Ace's new diet plan while you work your witchcraft on this little misery."

"Will you stop?"

"Yeesh, tough crowd."

With one last salute, Thatch spins on his heel and starts down the hallway. He feels Izo's eyes on him, feels his smile, and allows a victorious grin that'll look stupid to anyone crossing him.

Less than a week. Not enough time to prepare for the final decision. Not nearly enough time to say goodbye. But damn Thatch if he'll fall into the same hole Izo nearly did, let melancholy of any sort take him under. Rather, he'll make sure this week is the best these kids have ever have. It's hardly enough, but it's the least he can do, for all the light and cheer and _love_ they've gifted these sea weary pirates.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"Come in, you poor thing," Izo says once Thatch is gone, ushering Sabo inside before anyone else comes through and sees him – lord knows anyone's yet to fully get over the whole 'girlfriend' debacle. Not that Izo has by any means – he _will_ get those details – but he'll spare the lad further humiliation at the hands of his siblings.

He shuts the door behind him, and only when he turns to address Sabo does he realize that this is the first time any of the kids have been in his cabin, in any private quarters save for their own and Whitebeard's. Looking at Sabo now as his eyes drink it all in, it's as if he's entered a different world. Izo hardly blames him. Compared to most of his brothers and sisters (or sailors in general), Izo likes _things_. Likes collecting, jewellery, clothing or fabrics for whatever garments he wants to try his hand at, useless little trinkets that look pretty...he can't help himself.

From growing up with nothing to sailing the seas with a man who'll gladly give you _everything_... one can go a little mad with the allowance.

With what he's accumulated over the last decade or so, he's transformed what was once a drab but spacious cabin into a treasure trove; his wardrobe packed to the brim, scented candles on his bedside table, a rainbow of fabrics hanging over his bed like a canopy, glittering in the lights cast by the bulbs decorating his vanity, the desk cluttered with cosmetics in organized chaos.

Izo's room is an explosion of color and beauty, and he's proud of it.

"Whoa," Sabo breathes, his smile bright and wonderfully young as he spins on his heel to look at Izo. "Your room's beautiful."

Izo shrugs, belying the flush of tender warmth. "Of course it is," he says. "You _are_ looking at the one who redid your entire cabin. Now shut up and let me take a look at the mess you've made of yourself."

He gives Sabo a light shove, and he falls back to sit on the bed with a bounce and a snicker. Izo inspects the damage, taking a frizzy lock between his fingers, pulling it and letting it bounce back, making a show of scrutinizing the calamity of gold. Sabo squirms restlessly, idly kicking his legs back and forth.

After a moment, Izo stands back, painted lips spread into a cat-like grin. It's a simple fix, nothing he's not done a thousand times over. But Izo hasn't had an opportunity quite like this in _so long._ And though Thatch had succeeded in banishing his earlier melancholy to some degree – memories and lingering pains hitting too close to home – an alternative outlet is in order to truly cast the dreary clouds away. Sabo just so happens to be the perfect candidate.

"I have a solution," Izo says. "And an offer, but only if you choose to accept."

Smiling, Sabo shuffles closer to the edge of the bed, hands on his lap. "Go on," he urges.

Izo's grin widens. "I'll do your hair for you... _and,_ I'll give you a full makeover!" he declares, throwing his hands up with enough dramatic flair to give Thatch a run for his money.

Sabo blinks. "...a makeover?" he parrots. He doesn't seem disturbed or put off in any way. Rather he's curious, as he is with all things in the world; it's a quality Izo admires and fears.

That aside, Izo clasps his hands and nods. "I've wanted to do this for a while, actually," he confesses, coming to sit on the bed beside the teen. "Hair, make-up, clothes, nails, the whole nine yards! I wanted to ask earlier, I just didn't want to push any buttons or bring up bad memories, but I figured since I'm doing your hair _anyway_ –"

"Yes."

Izo's jaw clamps shut. Sabo is beaming, excited and every happy little thing in-between, and Izo's dazzled for a moment before he's matching Sabo's grin. "Really?"

Sabo nods, cheeks burning as he averts his gaze instead to his lap. "Yeah. I mean, why not, right? I'm always down for trying new things and this is...certainly new. Plus, I _am_ kinda curious about how you always look so..." he gestures all of Izo with a flap of his arm, "...so _you._ Beautiful a-and confident no matter what you're wearing, no matter who's looking or watching..."

Then Sabo looks up, eyes bright, his smile a shy but wonderful thing across his face. "I wanna know what that's like. If I can brave a Paradise storm, I can brave being different. I _want_ to be different. That's part of what it means to have true freedom, right? Expressing yourself no matter what anyone else thinks or says."

Izo could _cry._ He wants to, could, but won't, because he's shed enough tears for today and mascara is an absolute bitch to put on as is. He does allow a delighted _whoop_ , and plants a kiss on Sabo's scarred cheek before bouncing off the bed with juvenile fervor. "Excellent!" he chimes. "Sabo, you're a delight and wonder forever and I _love_ you. You won't regret this, I promise!"

Sabo, cheeks tinted crimson from the smooch, eventually returns Izo's grin. "Of course I won't," he quips. "I'm looking at the man who redid our cabin, after all."

"Damn right you are. First things first, let's get you back in the shower. Commanders have personal bathrooms and showers, so you can go ahead and use mine. I'll pass you what gels and shampoos I have for your hair and get everything else ready in the meantime." He claps his hands thrice rapidly. "Now mush! We've little time to waste, up with you!"

Snickering, Sabo shimmies off the bed and trots off into the bathroom, leaving Izo to giggle to himself like a felon in the center of his room. It's been so long since he's had a willing subject for his craft, since he's had the opportunity to guide a young soul on a journey of self discovery. This is going to be _wonderful!_

While the blond is in the shower, Izo flicks through his wardrobe, determined. The boys are still on the short side for their age, but they've shot right up in the last few days, surprising everyone; Thatch nearly had a heart-attack in realizing the top Ace's head now reached his chin (Izo thankfully had the foresight to add extra inches to all their clothes). Sabo just might be able to fit into one of Izo's older outfits that he'd held onto for nostalgia's sake, a gift from Haruta –

Izo freezes. Tilts his head and listens. There's... _humming_ coming from the bathroom. Soft, melodic, _beautiful_ humming followed by a murmured string of lyrics, like they can't quite remember all the words.

But it's enough, more than enough, that it takes every ounce of Izo's self-control to keep him from squealing. Sabo is singing. Sabo is _singing._ In the _shower._ And despite his uncertain mumbles, he sounds _beautiful._

And he _knows_ this tune, Izo realizes, knows it well. One of the many he and his brothers have sung together, be it in drunken bouts, rapturous chorus or in mourning – they've lost plenty of their own on these waters, a pain that lingers even today. And sure, many of his siblings have voices to die for, Marco included, though he seldom does due to all the songbird jokes he's subjected to. But _Sabo_...with a voice like that, the boy might as well be of siren descent, or perhaps an angel.

 _'I want to tell_ _ **everyone**_ _'_ he thinks, but knows he won't for the sake of privacy, something the boys have only just gotten accustomed to again.

(But the first chance he gets, Izo is _so_ getting this boy to sing for him.)

He fishes out the garment and accessories to match just as Sabo steps out of the bathroom. He's still got his pants and socks on but forwent the shirt, hair properly wrapped up in the towel as Izo had shown him. And judging from the sheepish look on his face, flushed in a manner that has nothing to do with the shower – "You heard."

It's not a question, but Izo answers anyway with a grin a mile wide. "I did. You've been holding out on us, dear." He beckons Sabo over to the vanity, and Sabo takes a seat on the stool, hands fisted on his lap in a show of nerves. Izo pulls up another stool and sits down in front of him, toning down his excitement for the sake of the twitchy teen. "When did you learn how to sing like that?" he asks. "You're really wonderful."

Izo didn't know it was possible for a human to turn such a deep shade of crimson, but Sabo manages it from the roots of his hair to his collarbone. "I, um...I took lessons, before we were...y'know," Sabo shrugs awkwardly, head down so his chin meets his chest. It's unfairly cute.

"And the song?" Izo prompts, reaching up to undo the towel and let Sabo's hair loose; no longer an untamed mess, thank the seas, but a little long, nearly down to his shoulders. Probably time for a cut. "It's a lovely tune. We used to sing it all the time."

"I, uh...I learned it from...from a barmaid back on our home island," Sabo replies, shaking his hair out freely with the towel gone, shoulders not quite so taut once he's rolled them out. He keeps still as Izo starts to pin his long bangs out of his face, his mangled scar on full display. For once, he doesn't seem to care. "She'd sing it under her breath while she was cooking or hanging up the laundry in the front yard. Said she learned it from a pirate that she...um...l-likes."

Izo hums nonchalantly to hide a knowing smile.

Paired with what they all know of Luffy and his relationship with Shanks, why said Red Haired pirate's route always looped back to East Blue every few months, it's not hard for Izo to put the pieces together. It's sweet, straight out of an old sailor's tale like the ones Pops likes to indulge in. Izo's never pegged Red Hair as the romantic type though, nor the sort to settle down in one place too long. One can only hope he's not leading this poor girl on.

He won't pry. He'd promised he wouldn't out of respect for the boy's privacy. Their past is theirs to keep or to share if they choose. Even so – "What's her name?" Izo asks.

It's a testament to how much he's grown, how much he trusts Izo, that Sabo hesitates for but a moment. "...Makino."

Makino. A lovely name for no doubt a lovely young lady, if the warm gleam in Sabo's eye is anything to go by. It'd be nice, one day, to meet the people who'd raised these boys first. The people who'd loved them first.

He puts that in the volt for later and settles back on the stool, facing Sabo and drawing a breath to stave off the thoughts skirting the fringes of his brain. Time for that later. Right now, it's about time they had some fun.

"Right, let's get down to business," he says. "I'll let your hair dry out a bit on its own. In the meantime, I'll get started on your face." At Sabo's anxious twitch, Izo chuckles and lays a hand against his scarred cheek, thumb gently stroking the ruined flesh. "Don't worry, it won't hurt a bit. Well, maybe the plucking might, but nothing else, I promise!"

Sabo balks, but only a little. Eventually, he smiles back with a chuckle, leaning into Izo's palm readily. "Okay," he says. "I did ask for this. Work your magic, then, Commander."

Izo beams, releasing Sabo's cheek and brandishing his brushes and primer like an assassin would a set of honed blades. "I shall indeed!"

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

"I come bearing good food and good news!"

Ace can't help it. He rolls his eyes to the heavens, praying for patience, and lifts his head from where it's been perched on the table the last fifteen minutes just as Thatch reappears from the kitchen, carefully balancing two heaping plates of food, as promised. More than enough to satiate the littlest bottomless pit sitting on Ace's right, but not nearly enough to banish the older teen's befouled mood. The chef's jaunty nature does nothing to help the fact, either, for all that it's usually endearing.

And while Ace does like Thatch – a lot, despite every warning he gives himself against the idea – and loves his food to boot, he only feels a twinge of regret when he mutters a bitter, "Thanks, Thatch, but I'm not hungry."

Thatch freezes mid-way through setting down Luffy's plate, him and the boy whirling to gape at Ace like he's grown a third eye. Ace rolls the two he's got. _Good lord._

On his left, Marco, the only other Commander or pirate in general allowed near their table purely due to the intense heat the teen emits in his frustration, lets out a whistle. "That pissed, yoi?" he asks.

"Can you blame me?" Ace snaps. He doesn't mean to, and has enough grace to wince at the unimpressed look Marco levels him with. He sighs, ragged and thoroughly nettled, and lets his head drop back down to rest on his crossed arms, scowling. "Freakin' _narcolepsy._ All this time and it happens _now?_ And there's no cure?" he snarls. Bites his lip, hard. "This isn't fair. This – this _sucks."_

A familiar sting behind his eyes. Ace gives in to the impulse to bite his lip a little harder, piercing the skin. It's been a while, and he'll regret it later when Sabo sees (because he can always, _always_ tell), but dammit...it's stupid to say, almost childish with all they've been through, but...

Luffy's chair scrapes against the floorboards as he shuffles close enough to wrap an arm around Ace's shoulders, an effort to comfort his older brother. Might've worked, if Ace wasn't so busy digging holes into his lip. Luffy tilts his head to try and catch Ace's eyes. Ace doesn't let him, turning his head away, thus blind to the wilting look on Luffy's face that Ace just _knows_ is there.

That's surely going to bite him in the ass later. For now, he continues to stew.

Marco sighs, and taps Ace twice on the head with a finger. Ace doesn't lift his head, but he does lift his eyes because he respects Marco enough to do that much. "Look, Ace," the older blond says, "I know you're frustrated, but you're not gonna fight us on this, yoi. You need help, and we're here to give it to you; the meds, the schedule, the naps, all the things Whiskey recommended sound like a pain in the ass, but if it's gonna help, you're better off listening to her."

"No joke," Thatch sets Ace's plate on the table – both plates are untouched, Luffy's yet to even _look_ at his food in the light of Ace's despondency – and sits on Marco's other side. "The last time I argued against her, it damn near got me killed. Not because of any major injury or illness, mind you, but because that woman –" He shivers dramatically, "–is _ruthless_."

Marco nods with Thatch solemnly – the horrors one see in the infirmary are not to be taken lightly, so Ace has been told.

Ace's frown doesn't go away, but it does soften. He finally lifts his head, quickly licking the drops of blood off his lip before Luffy can see. "Yeah, but...it's just gonna keep happening anyway, isn't it?" he mutters, slouching in his chair. "I'm still gonna pass out at random during the day and not sleep properly at night. So what's the point?"

It's Thatch's turn to roll his eyes. He reaches over, fingers curled in a loose fist that Ace has learned, through weeks of trial and error, not to flinch at.

"The _point,"_ the chef says, and bonks Ace's head, earning a squawk from the teen and a giggle from Luffy, "is that if we can keep track of your attacks-" another bonk, "–keep you awake –" _bonk_ , " -healthy, and preferably alive –" _bonk bonk,_ "– then you're damn well gonna listen to the nurse, you stubborn little misery with no self-preservation." _Bonkbonkbonk!_

" _Stop doing that!"_ Ace swats at Thatch's hand like a cat. Thatch dances out of reach, twirling and all, bowing to the few across the room who noticed, clapping and whistling. Luffy teeters sideways into Ace's side as he laughs himself silly.

Fed up, Ace throws his hands. "Fine, fine, whatever," he grumbles, slipping an arm around Luffy's scrawny frame out of habit; the kid readily burrows against him and sighs happily, blinking big, baby brown eyes up at Ace, a silent plea in them that cuts deep, without mercy.

Ace _melts._

The reluctance fades in the face of his brother's smile and in the genuine worry, the _care,_ in the gazes of two Whitebeard Commanders who...just want to help. Because they _want_ to, for _him,_ for all that he's been making it difficult for them to do even that for the longest time...

"I'll...I'll try it out," he relents with another sigh. "I guess."

Marco smiles, all warmth and poorly hidden relief, reaching out to ruffle Ace's hair. Ace lets him, pouting in mild displeasure. "That's all we ask, kiddo," he says. "Thank you, yoi."

Ace tries not to let that – Marco's gratitude, their patience and their overbearing but _real_ desire to help him – warm him up from the inside out. He can't _quite_ hide the smile, though.

" _There_ he is!" Thatch cheers, plopping back down in his chair to reach out and slap his palm over Marco's still on Ace's head. Again, though it's a little heavy, Ace lets him, but not without a scowl that goes ignored. "That's the adorable pyromaniac we know and love!"

Ace splutters. " _Adorable -?!"_

"And now that he's back to his wonderfully cheery self," Thatch carries right over Ace's outrage because he's a prick, "I can finally share that good news I brought along with the delicious food I oh so lovingly prepared."

Oh yeah, the 'good news'.

Ace wriggles from under the chef and the Phoenix's hands and sits back, absently picking at his food (to Thatch's delight) while Luffy unlatches himself from his brother and digs into his own lunch with his usual enthusiasm; that is to say, his rubbery cheeks are stuffed, and food is flying everywhere. It's gross, it's messy, and it's unapologetically Luffy. "Okay, so what's the good news?" Ace asks, automatically ducking his head to dodge a flying chicken bone.

Thatch cracks his knuckles with a flourish. "Strap yourself in, pups, it's a three parter!" he says, gracefully ignoring Marco's eye-roll, and clears his throat. "Number one – Whiskey's deemed you – well, all three of you but you especially, Ace – healthy enough to start training your _Haki,_ granted you stick to your new schedule and take your meds like a good boy."

For the first time since yesterday, Ace's freckled face lights up like a sky full of fireworks _._ "For real? _Hell_ yes!" he cheers, uncaring for once of the curious gazes sent his way – he can tell without looking that each one of them is fond. Cheeks bulging with food, Luffy throws his hands up with a muffled whoop, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Marco chuckles. "Well, someone's finally happy, yoi," he teases, but his tone is light and barren of malice so Ace lets it go. So long as he can train his _Haki,_ get stronger, Marco can tease as much as he pleases. So long as he's fine with having his possessions singed later.

"Oh, but he hasn't even heard the _second_ part," Thatch says, and puts up two fingers. "Number two – we're only a few days out from Sabaody, and for all that place is _all_ the of shades of grey, I guarantee you kids are gonna have the time of your lives! It's got restaurants, gift shops, roller coasters, games, you name it! Takes up most of the damn island."

Ace's eyes go wide. Luffy even pauses midway through shoving a chunk of... _something_ into his mouth. "The _whole_ island?" Ace parrots. "Seriously? Just how big _is_ Sabaody?"

"Pretty damn big, yoi," Marco says. "The Sabaody Archipelago is the final island in Paradise, close to the Red Line; a massive mangrove forest growing out from the middle of the ocean, each tree serving as an 'island' with roots thousands of feet deep, and no magnetic pull to affect a Log Pose. So, you technically can't really call it an island. We just do because it's easier."

Thatch stares at Marco. "Pretty sure most of that went right over their heads, Marc," he deadpans, and...he's not wrong. Ace gets it, kind of. Luffy is always a lost cause, explaining anything complicated away by declaring it a 'mystery'.

Still, Ace can't deny that he's wonder-struck, fascinated and curious of the final island of Paradise. He's certainly _heard_ of amusement parks, but never in his life has he actually seen or been to one. Dawn is only a small island in the East Blue, hardly anything special save for the jungle filled with bandits and oversized animals that try to kill you on the daily. High Town is just an eyesore, and after that is the humble Windmill village and the vast green farmlands and fields.

But an actual amusement park, big enough to take up most of the island or 'grove' or whatever the hell? Count Ace in!

Swallowing his final heaping mouthful and wiping his greasy mouth with the back of his hand, Luffy turns to Thatch, eagerly leaning forward. 'So what's number three?' he signs, leaning in close enough that he knocks Ace into Marco's side. The man doesn't seem to mind the close proximity, smirking fondly at them both. Ace fights a blush, and as usual, fails.

"Number three," Thatch raises a third finger, his other hand over his heart, "is that I, Fourth Commander of the Whitebeard pirates, am personally giving you kids free passes to do whatever you please for the next week! Wanna sneak some goodies from the kitchen? Go for it! Wanna prank every single Commander on board the _Moby Dick_ and not get chewed out? Absolutely! Wanna screw around in the weapons cabinet or fire a canon for the hell of it? No problem! Wanna bungee-jump off the crows nest – ?"

Marco's sleepy eyes grow wider and wider with impending dread as Thatch's outlandish list goes on, listing things off that the boys aren't _typically_ allowed to do for all that these pirates seem content to let them have their way. Ace won't pretend to know why Thatch is telling them this, or how _any_ of these things would fly by the rest of the Commander's or the captain by _any_ stretch of the imagination...

But a free pass is a free pass. Certainly wouldn't do to put it to waste, would it?

Ace grins, slow and evil, deliberately eyeing Marco from the side to catch the older man's horrified gaze – "So," the teen says slowly, turning back to face Thatch, "you're saying we can do absolutely _whatever_ we want for a whole week?"

Folding his arms over his chest with all the pride a pirate can muster, Thatch nods. "A-yup!" Marco buries his face in his hands and groans.

Ace nods back. "Okay, okay, cool. Soooo...I could switch the sugar with the salt in the shakers before every meal?" he asks, grinning harder.

Another nod. "A-yup!"

"Sabo could take a dip in the sea?"

"With Fishman supervision, a-yup!"

'I can paint Vista and Jiru's clothes in pretty colors?' Luffy signs.

"A-yup!"

"I can shave off Whitebeard's mustache while he sleeps?"

"A-yu _no!"_ Both Commanders whirl on the teen, rightly mortified. "No, no. Nonononononono, that's, ah – that's a no-go, little dude."

Ace tilts his head innocently and smiles real nice, just like Sabo taught him, batting his eyelashes. "But I thought you said we could do _whatever_ we wanted, Thatch-y," he sing-songs. Luffy giggles manically like the devil he is and mimes snipping scissors with his fingers across his upper lip.

"Yes, yes, I did indeed say that," Thatch nods sagely, hands together as if praying for patience, "but I also want you to live, and for all that Pops is a sporting guy, I very much doubt he'll take _that_ lightly. Last time we messed with the tash we got toilet cleaning duty for a _month._ That's a glorious mustache he's got there."

"Hear hear!" someone hollers from the table over. His chums raise their tankards in kind.

Thatch rolls his eyes at them, turns back to the boys. "Seriously, though, no snipping of Pop's glorious man beard. Because, as I said, we very much wanna keep you alive. Anything else is, for the most part, all yours for the taking."

"Does Pops know of _any_ of this, Thatch?" Marco drawls, though going by his expression the man already knows the answer.

"Of course not! Y'know he loves a good surprise!" The chef presses a finger to his lips, winking and grinning like a fiend. Marco groans into his hands a second time, a murmured insult going ignored.

"Does that outrageous list of yours possibly include dazzling the masses with a stunning display of beauty by any chance, Thatch dear?" a familiar voice croons from behind as two presences enter the galley and approach their table. Ace doesn't need to look to know who; their auras are aglow with familiar happiness and pride respectively, and it warms Ace up some in a way his devil fruit never could.

Thatch does turn, smiling automatically. "Why yes, oh splendidly beautiful brother of mine, it certainly dooo _ooooooooes what the HELL –?!"_

The man's ascending screech has every head in the galley whirl in search of the source and thereafter the cause, commanders rising from tipped chairs, fingers twitching for weapons on instinct. And then every jaw in the room promptly _drops._ Ace chokes. Luffy gasps until he's squeaking.

Fidgeting beside a radiant Izo in the center of the galley is Sabo – or Ace _thinks_ it is, because the blond standing in their midst, shuffling under dozen of bulging eyes and gaping maws, looks distinctly _feminine_.

Ace's twin now dons a billowing, pastel blue dress that cuts just above the knee, shoulders covered under a white cardigan, heeled sandals in place of his wonted boots, bejeweled with fake daisies along the side to match the ones woven into his hair on the left side, pinning back the bangs that usually hide the scar marring his face...the scar that's no longer there, covered in blush and primer to match his natural tan, like the mark was never there at all. Mismatched eyes shine bright under the intense blue shadows his lids cast, smiling lips painted a bold cerise.

Ace blinks. Blinks again.

Flashes of tortuous, humiliating nights spent in a cramped dressing room with frigid hands,

lingering touches and leering eyes, momentarily blind him.

His eye twitches, flames flickering beneath the surface of freckled skin, an old flavor of _rage_ sitting heavy on his tongue.

 _What the hell..._

Sabo lifts one hand, nails painted the same blue of his eye-shadow, and waves to the gaping mass. "Um...hi."

And then _noise,_ better suited for battlegrounds or a festival, erupts within the galley as men and women alike holler and cheer and point, everyone talking all at once. Sabo jumps a foot in the air, rocking back on his new heels. Izo throws his head back with rare, manic laughter.

" _Holy stinkin' crap,_ kid!" Haruta squeals – freaking _squeals –_ from the other side of the room, only to trip over himself in his mad scramble to reach the Sixteenth Commander and a red-faced Sabo. The redhead is utterly beside himself. "Dude – _look_ at you!" he crows, throwing up his hands to gesture Sabo's person wildly. "You look – you – you're –"

Ace swears if the next word that comes out of his mouth is anything at all like the foul things he and Mei had been subjected to _back there,_ words that made Ace shake with fury, reduced Mei to little more than a shell of herself, _nothing_ will keep him from roasting every single –

" _You're adorable!"_

...oh.

The rage leaves Ace as quickly as it had come, flames literal and figurative sputtering and dying in the face of the crew's delight and awe. A crowd gathers around the flustered blond, Thatch among them once he's collected his jaw from the ground, cooing like a doting mother would her daughter, until Marco ambles up from his chair and cautions the bunch to "give the kid some air, yoi!"

"But _look at him,_ Marc!" Thatch whines, both arms flung wide to gesture Sabo still shuffling awkwardly in place.

"Yeah _,_ look at his face! Look at his _dress_!"

"He's freakin' cute!"

"Yes, yes, we've established that, Jonny, but you're gonna trample him – back it up, yoi."

"You really outdid yourself this time, Commander Izo!" another voice calls over another's piercing whistle.

Izo flicks his hair back with dramatic flair, feigning nonchalance for all that he's fooling no one. "What can I say? I'm a genius."

Laughter abounds, Sabo's among them at last as the jittery nerves and awkward hesitance fades, a giddy sort of mirth quickly taking its place. He grants the crowd a little twirl on the spot, the skirts fluttering nicely about him without revealing a thing underneath.

(Nothing at all like the garments Ace was repeatedly forced into every other night, if they could even be called _that_ much. Those _...things_ were designed to expose, draw eyes to places no one should ever see on a _child_ , to glitter and flow and impress and attract, inspire loathsome thoughts, foul feelings and _intentions..._

But Sabo's dress is nothing of the sort. It's bright and cottony, soothing to the eye and...and _cute. S_ omething anyone could comfortably wear in public.

Ace can't deny it. Sabo looks _beautiful._ And if the dimpling smile splitting his face in two is anything to go by, he knows it, too.

And he's _enjoying_ this. He'd _wanted_ this.)

The blond finally catches Ace's stare and grins wider, slipping through the crowd that easily parts for him, thick heels clicking atop the wooden floorboards. He stops about a foot away, one hand propped on his hip as he shifts his weight and yeah, he's _definitely_ enjoying this.

"Soooo...what do you think?" Sabo asks, tilting his head to one side. His slanted grin is cocky as anything, but his eyes seek his approval. "Am I as pretty as you, Ace?"

The spell breaks, and Ace snorts. He really is, pretty in every way that Ace wasn't and should have never been to the eyes of older privileged men and woman who saw him as little else but whatever they'd wanted. But Ace is and always has been a bastard, so – "In your dreams," he says instead.

But Sabo knows him better than most, so all that gets him is a laugh. It quickly turns into a yelp when Luffy launches himself at Sabo, ignoring Izo's warnings to mind the make-up, he'd spent _ages_ on it! Sabo staggers, several hands already reaching out to steady him, but he's quick to find his balance on his own and reach up as much as he can to hug the giggling idiot back. "I take it that means you like it, Lulu?" Sabo grunts. Luffy can only nod, arms otherwise occupied, and buries his grin into the crook of a laughing Sabo's exposed neck. "Stop, Lu, that tickles!"

Behind the pair, Ace just catches Izo swallowing hard, his smile thin, his eyes shining. Thatch slings an arm around his shoulders, whispering something that has Izo crack a watery grin and pat the chef's hand in silent gratitude, leaning into him.

Ace sits back and thinks.

Thinks of the servants _back there,_ how they'd grinned and basked in their King's praises like starving vultures, how they'd boasted and prattled and discreetly dug their nails into Ace's shoulder, all arctic smiles and hateful whispers as they demanded he _'smile or else.'_ He thinks of them, watches Izo watching Sabo with approval, pride and... _love..._ and finds there's no more room for rage.

Ace settles back, and lets himself smile, soft and real, content to watch Sabo strike pose after pose, Luffy giggling as he attempts to mirror the blond. More laughter, whistles and cheers. Not a speck of lust or malice among a single soul.

These pirates aren't saints by any means. But they're _nothing_ compared to the devils and demons of _that_ wretched place. They're not heroes or villains, not angels or demons. But they're... _good._ The Whitebeard's are _good,_ decent people...

Ace _likes_ them.

He likes the Whitebeard's. Admitting it isn't quite so scary now. Hasn't been for a while.

For the first time, Ace willingly, _forcefully,_ silences the ever clamor of shrieking warnings that've held him back in an effort to shield and protect his bruised heart. Instead, he basks in the joy and laughter around him in the galley of a grand pirate ship, which grows tenfold when Whitebeard enters, takes one look at Sabo and cackles - "My, what a beautiful young man!" he bellows. Sabo's cheeks _burn_ , but his smile is all teeth and cheer even as he ducks his head and offers the captain a curtsy. Whitebeard offers a gentlemanly bow in reply.

Thatch finds Ace's gaze from across the room and winks. The teen grins back, slow and wonderfully heinous.

If Sabo's dramatic entrance is only the beginning, Ace has a feeling this is going to be a _very_ good week.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Edward still isn't rightly sure how this happened. Or better yet, how he'd _allowed_ this to happen.

He hadn't given Thatch any ideas, nor permission to grant the three little scamps a – what was it, a 'free pass'? Whatever it was, Edward Newgate did not endorse the idea nor did he in any way encourage it, and yet it happened. It's _still_ happening, and the saner of the crew have had more than enough of the madness.

If he were a harder man, Edward would probably have the chef behind all this keelhauled or some ilk of dreadful punishment that would have lesser men shiver. As an indulgent father, however, he does what he does best, to the chagrin and despair of his children.

He laughs.

The last few days have been, in Edward's opinion, by far the most exciting this crew has experienced in quite a while.

The meeting concerning a good number of tender subjects had left most of his commanders exhausted, rightly conflicted and, in Thatch and Whiskey's case, determined. Not only to ensure Ace's continued good health and well-being, but to also to make the last few days "the best damn days these pups ever have!"

 _That,_ Edward recalls agreeing to, more than willing and _wanting_ to give the boys what they can with what time they may or may not have left. He _hadn't_ agreed to the subsequent attempt at crew wide _homicide_ via the limitless destructive power of three teenage boys.

The day after Sabo's rather stunning entrance to the galley, the Twelfth Division was given a rude wake-up call – in that a certain rubber ball of sunshine and a (until recently) blue eyed angel had slipped firecrackers into the dorms and set them off. Poor sods damn near pissed themselves in fright, though Edward commends them on just how quickly they readied themselves for an attack only to find two cackling boys fleeing the scene like the devil himself was on their heels.

Not long after that was Ace's daily routine of being launched into the sea via Edward's fist, though more than the usual once per day. Needless to say, Namur was in quite the sour mood after Ace's _sixth_ failed attempt. The freckled lad, however, was positively _beaming_ even as he dripped seawater onto the deck, shaking himself out like Stefan to the indignant ire of passer-by's and then trotting off in search of his brothers after waving Edward a cheery farewell.

Of course, once he'd found said brothers, things went straight to hell.

The Second Division's shower gels had been replaced with a rainbow of dyes, leaving every member looking less like pirates and more of something out of a pride parade – "Fifty Shades of Gay!" Izo had crowed in delight at the sight of them, only to soon discover that Sabo had confiscated all of his garments to try them on for himself in their own cabin. The man couldn't decide if he was pleased or pissed.

Ace had slipped into the kitchens during lunch and switched the salt and sugar around. Luffy had wrapped one leg around the mast and bungee-jumped off the rigging, inducing several heart-attacks. Sabo secured a rope to a railing and took a dip in the sea, inducing several _more_ heart-attacks and disturbed the dragon from her dwelling as Whiskey stormed onto the deck, demanding to know why so many men and women were being carted to her infirmary with symptoms of shock. Three little devils remained suspiciously silent.

Needless to say, their Armament Haki training was _rigorous_ later that day, courtesy of a very eager Marco and Jozu, two of the best in that field who were more than happy to volunteer for that day's lesson. The Whitebeard Pirates were spared that evening from any further shenanigans once the little ones trudged their way to bed early, sore and well and truly bested.

Only for it to begin anew the very next day as payback. Starting with Marco waking up to find an _egg_ in his bed, one of which the poor fool truly believed he'd laid in his sleep until Edward had accidentally cracked the chocolate treat open.

Thatch was thrown overboard that morning. After careful consideration, Sabo was dunked, fully clothed, into an ice bath. No one can decide which fate was worse.

Every other hour of every day after that was pure insanity. Chaos everywhere one might look, the little devils fleeing their latest scene with squawking pirates at their heels, their laughter ringing loud in the air, delighted and wonderfully boyish.

It's that alone – their contagious joy, their wide smiles full of mischief and freedom and the childlike innocence Edward thought was lost to them – that keeps the veteran pirate from putting his foot down. While Thatch certainly shouldn't have given them such outrageous ideas, Edward knows his son only meant well, doing what anyone on this ship would do. Giving three boys a _good_ memory, something they can look back on and _want_ to, for once, and smile.

Give them something to remember the Whitebeard's by.

It's only when the gremlins somehow manage to stick a note reading 'Make Way For Man Beard' on the back of his coat, leaving many a pirate snickering in until Blenheim takes mercy on him, that Edward decides to retaliate.

By hunting them down and stuffing them, kicking (Ace) and biting (Sabo) and shrieking with laughter (Luffy) into his pillowcase.

Their muffled laughter and pleas for mercy – "we'll call a truce! We'll stop, let us out! Don't you _dare_ throw us overboard old man!" - are drowned out by Edward's booming cackles as he throws the squirming sack over his shoulder and hauls them away from the galley where he'd ambushed them, grin widening at the looks he receives from his sons and daughters, incredulous and fond alike.

Oh, how he'll _miss_ this, Edward thinks. He'll miss the way Luffy's whole being lights up at the very scent of adventure and the promise of joy that comes with it. The way Sabo cocks his head and grin like the cheeky brat he is at any new challenge, how he soaks up every inch of the world and the people around him like a sponge, never truly satisfied, his yearning to learn far too great for that...

...the way Ace will sometimes glance at Edward, a question in his eyes that's desperate to be answered but never asked aloud, hidden under a smile that's unsure, but bright as any star.

Yes. Edward will miss this. He'll miss his boys.

* * *

 **0o0o0**

* * *

Night has already fallen by the time Sabaody finally comes into view. The crew have elected to wait until morning before shoring up proper, dropping anchor a ways off from the archipelago.

Luffy wants to be disappointed – so close, so _close,_ can't they just sail all the way? – but the moment he and his brothers lean over the railing to get a look, the pre-teen can't find it in himself to be anything but enthralled.

Even from here, he can see what must be the park, glittering lights of every color bright and soft against the night sky like fireflies, bubbles floating from every green surface and into the heavens, twisting roots bigger and thicker than anything Luffy's ever seen delving deep into the inky abyss; Marco had said they go down hundreds of feet, far deeper than any human can go. _That,_ along with Fishman island, is something Luffy would love to see with his own eyes.

For now, he'll settle for this wonderful sight beheld to them, sighing softly as he rests his chin on his crossed arms, atop the railing. Sabaody looks like a dream, the kind Luffy dimly remembers from the years _before_ ; soft and full of wonder, another adventure just within reach. Luffy's heart aches for it.

"Beautiful," Sabo breathes on Luffy's left, staring across the expanse of ocean at the marvel of Sabaody. He's not quite grinning, but his eyes are bright and dancing with mirth and yearning. "I've never seen anything like it. The final island before the New World..."

On Luffy's right, Ace hums and nods. "Guess all those lights must be from the amusement parks," he muses. Then he grins, quick and sharp, and looks at Sabo. "A hundred Bellie says you'll pussy out on riding the roller-coaster."

Sabo, of course, takes that bait and scowls. "Two hundred says I _won't_ and _you'll_ scream like a little girl," he counters.

Ace opens his mouth to retort, but Luffy silences them both with a pat on their shoulders. They look down at him, and the boy beams. 'Five hundred says you'll both scream like little girls and puke your guts out,' he signs with a devilish snicker. And because he knows his brothers better than anyone on these seas, he knows the second they bristle like irate cats that they'll take this bait –

"Fine then! Get ready to be proven wrong _and_ broke, though!"

"Challenge excepted, rubber boy."

They shake on it. Luffy, though by no means the gambling sort, snickers to himself again and eagerly awaits his riches.

 _Easily riled up and competitive brothers = easy money._

Behind them, the Whitebeard's are treating themselves to their booze and games once more – not quite the loud, crazy celebrations Luffy has grown used to (grown to love), but still full of merriment and drunken laughter of carefree buccaneers. Well, most of them anyhow. At least half of the commanders are still sober, keeping their eye on the rowdier bunch and merely hanging about the ship, some idly watching the waves, chatting to one another or whoever among the crew aren't completely sloshed, or following the boys' lead in staring off into the distance at the glowing archipelago. Even Whitebeard has only had a tankard or two thus far rather than the usual six it takes to get him tipsy.

Seems everyone is relishing in the rare bout of peace before the oncoming rush dawn will bring...

Luffy's smile falters.

It's been a fun week – less so for their many victims – but the countenance of the Whitebeard commanders hasn't completely escaped Luffy's notice. While Luffy and Sabo have been stealing socks and switching gels with dye, and Ace taking several dips in the sea and setting pirate's pants on fire, the commanders seem to have been...preparing themselves. For what, Luffy wasn't quite sure at first. Not until he recalled a conversation he'd had with Whitebeard weeks ago, before Tundra.

Sabaody is their last stop before the Whitebeard's set off for the New World again. They can't turn back once they disembark for Fishman Island, hundreds of feet below. The time to decide whether they stay or leave for good is almost upon them.

Luffy's given it plenty of thought. He wants to stay. Not permanently – he has his own crew to gather, his own dream to chase and achieve, something he can't do under the flag of his future rival – but long enough to get stronger, put the pains of the past behind him and grab the future with both hands. He loves the Whitebeard's, all of them. Well, Teach is a mixed bag, but he's faced worse; he'd hate to leave them so soon. Sabo has plans to join Koala's team in the next year or two, but until then he'll likely stay aboard the _Moby_ with Luffy _._

Ace, however...

Luffy can feel Ace's longing, his desire to stay warring with every instinct instilled into them telling him to _run_. Those instincts, doubts and fears, have slowly begun to fizzle away, the walls breaking down little by little, letting himself believe and _want_ for something he'd never thought possible. But some fears, all encompassing and _crippling,_ that have haunted Ace even years _before_ their enslavement, still remain. Fears based on nothing but lies and ignorance, but have rooted themselves so deep into an aching heart...

Luffy's not sure what it'll take for Ace to see the truth, to understand that this crew – the captain himself, the man Ace respects, admires, _fears_ – won't give a damn about the blood running through his veins, the ties binding him to Whitebeard's long dead rival...but he prays it doesn't take too long.

Luffy has always followed his older brothers, be it across untamed jungles or pristine streets claimed by nobility. He's never once questioned their decisions, their motives – everything they've ever done has been for the sake of each of them, out of love. He'll always stand by his brothers, no matter what.

But...if Ace wants to _leave,_ for stupid _untrue_ reasons, while Luffy and Sabo want to stay...what will happen then? Will Ace leave without them anyway? Leave them behind? Will their bond be tested, fractured, _broken_? Will he expect them to just _let_ him go when it's obvious he doesn't _want to –?_

Luffy shakes himself, careful not to draw his brothers' eyes, banishing the swirling thoughts. Time for that later. They've a few days yet. They still have time. Ace still has time.

Here's hoping his big brother isn't too blind to see that the answers he's been looking for are, and always have been, right in front of him.

For now, Luffy is content to lean against the railing, his brothers' warmth at his sides an instant comfort, the Whitebeard's soft but jubilant chorus like music to his ears. For now, Luffy allows himself to exist in this moment. To close his eyes and just _be._

To smile to himself and dream of what adventures awaits them on the final island.

* * *

 **Reviews are writer chow :3**


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